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ELOCUTION MADE EASY: 



CONTAINING 



$utya and #$taitjm8 for fttlamathm and Statitbtg, 



FIGURES ELUSTRATIVE OF GESTURE AND VOCAL 

GYMNASTICS. 




BY R. p^AGG-ETT, A.M. 

AUTHOR OF THE AMERICAN EXPOSITOR. 



STEREOTYPE EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 

PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY MOSS, BROTHER & CO. 

1859. 



A * 4 



'A 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1845, by 

PAINE & BURGESS, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern Dis 
trict of New York. 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1859, by 

MOSS, BROTHER & CO. 

in tne Clerk's office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



61' 



PREFACE 



In a free country, the cultivation of eloquence is an object of 
paramount importance to those who aspire to a career of exten- 
sive usefulness, or honorable distinction. Every year in our 
country's progress enhances this importance, and furnishes addi- 
tional reasons for preparing our youth to meet the emergencies 
of the present and coming times. Questions of vital interest 
to our religious, civil and social institutions, are agitated with 
fearful success by the advocates of error ; the demagogue, as 
well as the educator, is laboring with untiring zeal ; and the 
question at issue is, which shall gain the ascendency ; whether 
our free institutions shall be sustained by the conservative power 
of intelligent patriotism, or undermined by the selfish machina- 
tions of unscrupulous ambition. To the Common, as well as the 
High School and the University, we must look for future men 
who are to advocate and sustain, with all the power of elo- 
quence, the purity of our public morals, the important interests 
of learning, and the noble fabric of our civil policy, under which 
we, as a nation, has thus far flourished and won the admiration 
of the world. One of the chief glories of our country is, the 
encouragement given to learning, and the general diffusion of 
knowledge. But the learning acquired at our schools and col- 
leges is comparatively of little value, when the study and prac- 
tice of elocution is neglected. Thousands, "otherwise well edu- 
cated, are often heard to lament their neglect of this branch, 
while young, and their consequent inability to utter, in public, 
those thoughts which they would gladly disseminate, and thereby 
confer a benefit on society. 



IV PREFACE. 

But parents, teachers and guardians of education, are begin- 
ning to realize not only its importance, but the feasibility of 
giving it an important place among the branches of common 
education. Heretofore, although highly appreciated, it has been 
considered by many, as beyond the aim or reach of our youth, 
and only to be studied by those whom fortune has enabled to 
attend our higher seminaries of learning. The author of this 
Manual has long been convinced that the general neglect of so 
important and useful a branch of education may be attributed, 
in part, to the want of books adapted to the use of Common 
as well as High Schools. There are several excellent works on 
this subject whose, authors, with rare exceptions, seem to have 
participated in the general opinion, that Elocution belongs only 
to the list of branches taught in Academical and Collegiate 
institutions. But it is now a settled point ,with experienced 
teachers of this branch, that it may be successfully taught in 
Common schools, both public and private ; and that an early 
and thorough training of the vocal organs is the surest, and, in 
most cases, the only means of securing excellence in reading or 
speaking. This Manual is offered to the public, with the belief, 
that it may promote the improvement of the young, in the im- 
portant branch of which it treats. 

The plan of the work may be more readily perceived by an 
inspection of its pages, than by a prefaratory description. Every 
part, it is believed, is so plain and intelligible, that any competent 
teacher may readily adopt its plan of instruction. 

The vocal gymnastics and selections now added to the work 
will, doubtless, greatly enhance its value, as a text book. 

The Author. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY, 



CHAPTER I. 

FIRST LESSON. 

THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 

Question — What are the organs of speech ? 
Answer — The tongue, the lips, the palate the throat, the 
roof of the mouth, and the upper teeth. 



FORMATION OF THE CONSONANTS. 
Note. — The formation of the vowels is not described, as they may 
be more readily acquired ( by imitation than verbal description. Every 
pupil should inhale a full breath, before commencing each line, and 
should not be allowed to inhale again till every vowel in the line is 
pronounced. These exercises should be repeated daily, with increas- 
ing distinctness and force. 



1 2 3 4 1 2 1 

bale, bar, ball, bat, cede, pen, p 



2 1 2 3 12 3 4 

pin, note, move, nor, pure, tune, full, sun. 

io o ouuuu 
io o ouuuu 
io o ouuuu 



Note. — The following consonants may be classed in pairs, and each 
pair described in the same manner : 



sh 
zh 



th as in thin 
th as in that 



ch 
J 



J? 



5 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Q. — How are p and b formed ? 

A. — p and b are formed by closing the lips and pressing out 
the breath, giving p the sound of the breath only, and to b the 
sound of the voice. 

Note. — In the following exercises, the teacher or a part of the 
class should pronounce the part of each word preceding the dash, 
and the whole class pronounce the elementary sound of the letter 
above described, never pronouncing the name of the letter ; then the 
teacher or a part of the class should pronounce the whole word, and 
the whole class should repeat the word. For instance ; the teacher 
pronounces dee, then the pupil the elementary sound of p, then the 
teacher pronounces the word deep and the pupil repeats it. The 
teacher, at his option, ma} T select other words ending with the same 
sound. 

Abbreviated, T. for teacher ; C. for class. 

t. a 

dee-p 
rea-p 
pee-p 
hea-p 



SECOND LESSON. 

Q. — How are / and v formed ? 

A — -f and v are formed by pressing the upper teeth upon 
the under lip, giving to f the sound of the breath only, and to 
v the sound of the voice, thus : 



T. 


a 


t. a 


T. 


a 


deep 
reap 
peep 
heap 


deep 
reap 
peep 
heap 


| ba-be 
gle-be 
gi-be 

| lo-be 


babe 
glebe 
gibe 
lobe 


babe 
glebe 
gibe 
lobe 



bee-f 


beef 


beef 


ga-ve 


gave 


gave 


lea-f 


leaf 


leaf 


la-ve 


lave 


lave 


sa-fe 


safe 


safe 


sa-ve 


save 


save 


fi-fe 


fife 


fife 


ra-ve 


rave 


rave 



Q. — How are t and d formed ? 

A. — t and d are formed by pressing the tip of the tongue to 
the gums of the upper teeth, giving t the sound of the breath 
only, and to d the sound of the voice ; thus : 



bai-t 


bait 


bait 


fa-de 


fade 


fade 


da-te 


date 


date 


dee-d 


deed 


deed 


bea-t 


beat 


beat 


si-de 


side 


side 


ci-te 


cite 


cite 


loa-d 


load 


load 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 



THIRD LESSON. 



Q. — How are s and z formed ? 

A. — s and z are formed by placing the tongue nearly in the 
same manner as in t and d, giving to 5 a hissing sound, and z a 
buzzing sound ; thus : 



ca-se 


case 


case 


ga-ze 


gaze 


gaze 


cea-se 


cease 


cease 


ma-ze 


maze 


maze 


lea-se 


lease 


lease 


free-ze 


freeze 


freeze 


do-se 


dose 


dose 


si-ze 


size 


size 



Q. — How are sh and zh formed ? 

A. — sh and zh are formed nearly in the same manner as s and 

z, sh having the sound of the breath only, and zh having the 

sound of the voice ; thus : 

wa-sh wash wash mar-sh marsh marsh 

har-sh harsh harsh a-zu-re azure aznre 



FOURTH LESSON". 

Q. — How are th as in thin, and th as in that, formed ? — 
A. — By putting the tongue against the upper teeth, giving 

to th, as in thin, the sound of the breath only, and to th, as in 

that, the sound of the voice ; thus : 



bo-th 


both 


both 


ba-the 


bathe 


bathe 


oa-th 


oath 


oath 


brea-the 


breathe 


breathe 


fai-th 


faith 


faith 


wri-the 


writhe 


writhe 


tee-th 


teeth 


teeth 


clo-the 


clothe 


clothe 



Q. — How are k and g formed ? 

A. — h and g are formed by pressing the middle of the tongue 
to the roof of the mouth, near the throat, giving to h the sound 
of the breath only, and to g the sound of the voice ; thus : 



ba-ke 


bake 


bake 


pla-gue 


plague 


plague 


ca-ke 


cake 


cake 


vo-gue 


vogue 


vogue 


ma-ke 


make 


make 


ro-gue 


rogue 


rogue 


bea-k 


beak 


beak 


lea-gue 


league 


league 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FIFTH LESSON. 



Note. — The other sound of g, as in gem, is like that of j, described 
below. 

Q. — How is ch formed ? 

A. — ch is formed by joining t to sh ; thus : 



bea-eh 


beach 


beach 


ea-ch 


each 


each 


lee-ch 


leech 


leech 


pea-ch 


peach 


peach 


tea-ch 


teach 


teach 


rea-cl 


reach 


reach 



Q. — How are /'and g soft formed ? 
A. — j and g soft are formed by joining d to zh ; thus : 

rage 



ca-ge cage cage 
ga-ge gage gage 
pa-ge page page 

Q. — How is m formed ? 



ra-ge 
sa-ge 
lie-ge 



liege 



rage 
sage 
liege 



A. — m is formed by closing the lips, and letting the voice 
pass through the nose ; thus : 



ai-m aim 

ca-me came 

da-me dame 

fa-me fame 1 



aim 
came 
dame 
fame 



foa-nf 
ho-me 
doo-m 
loo-m 



foam foam 

home home 

doom doom 

loom loom 



SIXTH LESSON. 



Q. — How is n formed ? 

A. — n is formed by pressing the tip of the tongue to the 
gums of the upper teeth, and letting the voice pass through the 
nose, with the mouth open ; thus : 



ba-ne 
ca-ne 
gai-n 
fa-ne 



bane 
cane 
gain 
fane 



bane 
cane 
gain 
fane 



li-ne 
lo-ne 
pru-ne 
tu-ne 



line 
lone 
prune 
tune 



line 
lone 
prune 
tune 



Q. — How is I formed ? 

A. — I is formed by placing the tongue in the same manner 



EXERCISES FOR ARTICULATION. 



9 



as in n, and letting the voice pass each side of the tongue ; 

thus : * 

pile 
pole 
sole 
rule 



ba-le 


bale 


bale 


pi-le 


pile 


da-le 


dale 


dale 


po-le 


pole 


ha-le 


hale 


hale 


so-le 


sole 


fai-1 


fail 


fail 


ru-le 


rule 



SEVENTH LESSON. 

Q. — How is r formed ? 

A. — r is formed by turning up the tip of the tongue nearly 
to the roof of the mouth, and letting the sound of u, as 
in but, pass through the mouth, giving to r a jarring or vibra- 
tory sound when it comes before a vowel, and a smooth sound 
when it comes after a vowel ' thus : 



r-ave 


rave 


rave 


ba-r 


bar 


bar 


r-ain 


rain 


rain 


ca-r 


car 


car 


r-eel 


reel 


reel 


fa-r 


far 


far 


r-ise 


rise 


rise 


ma-r 


mar 


mar 



Q. — How is ng formed ? 

A.. — ng is formed by pressing the middle of the tongue to 
the roof of the mouth, rand letting the voice pass principally 
through the nose ; thus : 

ba-ng bang 
ra-ng rang 
cla-ng clang 

Note. — At the beginning of a word or syllable, w has the sound of 
oo, and y the sound of e long ; q and u have the sound of Jew, and x 
has the sound of Jes or gs ; thus, w-ake w-ane w-eek, w-ine w-ild 
w-oke, qu-ake qu-een qu-eer, ax-is ex-it box-er ex-alt ex-ist ex-empt. 



bang 


sa-ng 


sang 


sang 


rang 


so-ng 


song 


song 


clang 


wro-ng 


wrong 


wrong 



10 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 
EIGHTH LESSON. 



CONSONANTS COMBINED. 



Note. — Here the teacher pronounces the combined consonants, a 
BL, and the class pronounce ade, &c. 



BL-ade 

BR-ace 

CL-aim 

CR-ate 

DR-ain 

FL-arae 

FR-ame 

GL-ade 

GR-ace 

Pirate 

PR-aise 

SC-ale 

SCR-ape 

SL-ave 

SN-ail 

SP-ade 

SPL-ay 

SPR-ay 

STR-ay 

TR-ay 



BL-eed 

BR-eeze 

CL-eave 

CR-eed 

DR-eam 

FL-eet 

FR-eeze 

GL-eam 

GR-een 

Pl-ea 

PR-iest 

SCH-me 

SCR-eara 

SL-eeve 

SM-ear 

SN-eer 

SP-eed 

SPL-een 



STR-eet 
TR-ee 



BL-ind 

BR-ide 

CL-ime 

CR-ime 

DR-ive 

FL-ight 

FR-ight 

GL-ide 

GR-ind 

PL-ight 

PR-ime 

Sk-y 

SCR-ibe 

SL-ime 

SM-ite 

SN-ipe 

SP-ite 

SPL-ice 

SPR-ite 

STR-ike 

TR-y 



BL-ow 

BR-ogue 

CL-ose 

CR-ow 

DR-ove 

FL-own 

FR-oze 

GL-obe 

GR-ow 

PR-ose 

PR-one 

SC-ope 

SCR-oll 

SL-ow 

SM-ote 

SN-ow 

SP-ort 



STR-ove 
TR-ope 



BL-ue 

BR-ew 

CL-ue 

CR-ew 

DR-ew 

FL-ew 

FR-uit 

GL-ue 

GR-ew 

PL-ume 

PR-une 

S CR-ew 
SL-ew 



SP-ume 



STR-ew 
TR-ue 



NINTH LESSON. 

Note. — The capitals are to be pronounced with special force and 

distinctness. 



tuRF foRGB 

marRK'ST peaRL 

haRM he-RM'D 

tuRN tuRNS 

tuRN'D'ST usuRP 

veRSE buRST 
paRT'ST 
seRY ST 



foRG'D maRK 
huRL'D'ST maRKS 
haRM'D'ST usuRP'D 



tuRN'D paRT 

usuRP'S parTS 

buRSTS seRYeS 

paRTeDST seRYE 

seRY'D'ST soaKS heaRS 



fouRTHS 

fifTHS 

siXTHS 

sevenTHS 

eighTHS 

ninTHS 

tenTHS 

^leveNTHS 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 11 

peRCH seaRCH seaRCH'd seaRCHES 

maRSH eaRTH deaRTH riSK 

riSKS liSP lisSPS puZZLE 

puzZLES puzZL'D'ST priSM prisMS 

TWELFTH LESSON. 

Some of the combinations of vowels forming one syllable, 
ia is pronounced like ya, as in filial, pronounced fil-yal, 

ie " " " ye, as in spaniel, pronounced span- 

yel, 
io " " " yu, as in million, " mil-yun, 

ua " " " wa, as in assuage, " as-swage, 

cial " " •« shal, as in social, " so-shal, 

tial " " " shal or tshel, as in nuptial, pro- 

nounced nup-shal, in bestial, pronounced bes-tsheal, 
science ) like shence, as in conscience, pronounced con-shence, 
tience ) patience, pronounced pa-shence, 
tient pronounced like shent, as in patient, pronounced 
pa-shent, 

S ^ Gr } pronounced like zhur, as in osier, pronounced o-zhur, 

sion pronounced like shun or zhun, as in version, pronounc- 
ed ver-shun, evasion, pronounced eva-zhun, 

cious i pronounced like shus, as in specious, pronounced spe- 

scious > shus, conscious, pronounced con-shus, factious, pro ■ 

tious ) nounced fac-shus, 

sure pronounced like shure or zhure, as in erasure, pro 
nounced era-zhure, pressure, pronounced presh- 
shure, 

tion pronounced like shun or tshun, as in nation, pronounc 
ed na-shun, fustian, pronounced fus-tshun, 

tier pronounced like yur, as in courtier, pronounced k6rt-yur 

teous " *» tsheous, as in courteous, pronounced 

kur-tshe-us, 

dier \ pronounced like jur, as in soldier, pronounced sol-jur, 

deur > grandeur and verdure, pronounced gran-jur and 

dure ) ver-jur 



12 



ELOCUTION MADB EASY. 



CHAPTER IIL 



THIRTEENTH LESSON. 



GRAMMATICAL PAUSES. 




The Grammatical pauses 
The period 
The colon 
The semicolon 
The comma 


are 

. Marked thus 


> 
» 


The interrogation 
.The exclamation 
The parenthesis . 




i 
• ( 



The length of these pauses depends upon the nature of die 
subject, and the circumstances of the case in which they are 
used, rather than upon invariable rules. 

The period is supposed to be a pause double the time of the 
colon ; the colon, double that of a semicolon ; and the semi- 
colon, double that of the comma, which is generally stated to 
be long enough for the reader or speaker to count one. 

The interrogation and exclamation points are said to be 
indefinite as to their quantity of time, and to mark an elevation 
of voice ; and the parenthesis to mark a moderate depression 
or lowering of the voice, with a pause shorter than a comma. 



RHETORICAL PAUSES. 

Rhetorical Pauses are those pauses which, in addition to the 
grammatical pauses, are observed by good speakers or readers, 
to give variety to the tones of the voice, and distinctness, 
clearness and force to utterance. This pause is marked 
thus | 

The duration of the Rhetorical pauses depends upon the 
same principles as that of the grammatical pauses, although it 
is usually shorter. 

The Rhetorical pause should be made . 

1st. After the nominative, if it consists of several words. 

2d. After the nominative, if it is an important word. 

3d. After the objective in inverted sentences. 

4th. Before and after an intermediate clause 

5th. Before the relative. 



THE INFLECTIONS. 13 

6th. Before and after clauses introduced by prepositions. 

7th. Before conjunctions and the adverbs, how, why, when, 
where, &c. 

8th. Before the infinitive mode, if any word intervene be- 
tween it and the word which governs it. 

EXAMPLES. 

The experience of want | enhances the value of plenty. 

Truth j is the basis | of excellence. 

On Linden | when the sun was low. 

Trials | in this state of being | are the lot of man. 

Death | is the season | which brings our affections to the 
test. 

From the right exercise I of our intellectual powers | arises 
| one | of the chief sources | of our happiness. 

We applaud virtue I even in enemies. 

Honor | and shame | from no conditions rise 

A public speaker | may have a voice that is musical | and 
of great compass ; but it requires much time and labor | to 
attain its just modulation | and that variety of flexion and tone 
| which a pathetic discourse requires. 



CHAPTER IV. 

FOURTEENTH LESSON. 
THE INFLECTIONS. 

The monotone is a continuation of sound on the same pitch 

or key. It is marked thus The monotone has great 

force and dignity in pronouncing grave, solemn and sublime 
language. 

EXAMPLE. 

thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 



fathers ! whence are thy beams, Sun ! thy everlasting 
light ? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty ; the stars 
hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks 
in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone 

9 



14 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

By inflection is meant the turning or slide of the vo|ce up. 
ward or downward from any pitch or key. 

The rising inflection, marked thus is that upward slide of 
the voice which is used in asking a question beginning with a 
verb, as, 

Did he say no ? 

The falling inflection, marked thus is that downward 
slide of the voice which is usually made in answering a ques- 
tion, as, 

Did he say no ? He did ; he said no 

FIFTEENTH LESSON. 
TABLE OF INFLECTIONS. 

Did he say hate or late ? He said hate, not late 

Did he say beat or peat ? He said beat, not peat 

Did he say file or vile ? He said file, not vile. 

Did he say goal or coal ? He said goal, not coaL 

Did he say flute or lute ? He said flute, not lute. 

Did he say man or men? He said man, not men. 

Did he say pin or fin ? He said pin, not fin. 

Did he say blot or plot ? He said blot, not plot. . * 

Did he say born or horn? He said born, not horn 

Did he say burn or turn ? He said bum, not turn. 

Did he say bar or far ? He said bar, not far 



CIRCUMFLEX. 15 

Did he say fast or last ? He said fast, not last. 

Did he say call or hall ? He said call, not hall. 

Did he say true or drew ? He said true, not drew. 

Did he say full or pull ? He said full, not pull 

Did he say bird or third ? He said bird, not third. 

The inflections in the foregoing table may be varied from 
one tone to an octave. 

Practising long intervals is specially recommended, as tend 
ing to give firmness, strength and variety to the voice 



CHAPTER V. 

SIXTEENTH LESSON. 
CIRCUMFLEX. 

By circumflex is meant two slides of the voice. 

The rising circumflex, marked thus V consists of the down- 
ward and upward inflections. 

The falling circumflex, marked thus A consists of the up- 
ward and downward inflections. 

The rising circumflex is principally used on words spoken 
ironically — that is, on words expressing one thing and mean- 
ing another. 

EXAMPLE. 

V V A 

Hear him, my lord : he is wondrous condescending. 

Here under leave of Brutus and the rest, 

V 
And Brutus is an honorable man 

V V V 
So are they all, all honorable men. 

The falling circumflex generally is used to express reproach, 



16 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

and may be exemplified by the drawling tone w e hear on the 
word you, in Hamlet's answer to his mother, who says — 
Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended. 

Hamlet. Madam, you have my father much offended. 

Both these circumflex inflections may be exemplified in thus 

V A 

— If you said so then I said so 

SOME OF THE RULES FOR THE INFLECTIONS. 

Rule 1. 
The rising inflection should be made when a question is 
asked beginning with a verb, as, 

Did you hear ? Is the king dead ? 

Rule 2. 
The rising inflection should be made between the nomina- 
tive and the verb, as, 

Adversity is the parent of piety. 

Rule 3. 
The rising inflection should be made at a pause in a sen- 
tence, where the sense is not completed, as, 

Whatever your hands find to do, that do with your might 

Rule 4. 

In a sentence, where the two principal parts depend on 
each other for sense, the voice slides up where the sense or 
where the meaning begins to be formed, as, 

At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent 

a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accom- 
plishment of little, mean and ungenerous minds. 

SEVENTEENTH LESSON. 

Rule 5. 
The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- 
tence connected by corresponding conjunctions, adverbs, the 
subjunctive mode, and the comparative degree, as, 



THE INFLECTIONS. 17 

As trees and plants necessarily arise from seeds, so are you, 
Anthony, the seed of this most calamitous war. 

We may as well be refreshed with a clear and brisk dis- 
course, as by the air of Campanian wines. 

If there were no cowardice, there would be little insolence. 

When you have leisure, attend to the improvement of your 
mind. 

It is more blessed to give, than to receive 

Rule 6. 
The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- 
tence introduced by participles, adjectives, infinitives and pre- 
positions, as, 

Conquered and enslaved, it is not boldness, but necessity, 
that urges to battle. 

Awkward in his person and ungainly in his manners, James 
was ill qualified to command respect. 

To say the least, they have betrayed great want of candor. 

In the ruffled and angry hour, we view every appearance 
through a false medium. 

Rule 7. 
The rising inflection takes place before a relative, where it 
modifies or limits the antecedent, as, 

No man ever attained lasting fame, who did not, on several 
occasions, contradict the prejudices of popular applause. 

Rule 8. 
The rising inflection takes place when we address, invite, 
petition, or request, as, 

Gentlemen, allow me to lay before you the object of my mis- 
sion, which I will do as briefly as possible. 
2* 



18 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Rule 9. 
The rising inflection takes place in negative sentences, as, 

He was virtuous, not vicious. 

Rule 10. 
The rising inflection takes place between the parts of an 
antithesis or between sentences in opposition to each other, as, 

Philosophy makes us wiser, Christianity makes us better 
men. 

Rule 11. 

Where interrogative sentences are connected by the disjunc- 
tive, or, the first ends with the rising, the rest with the falling 
inflection, as, 

Shall we crown the author of the public calamities, or shall 
we destroy him ? 

Rule 12. 

The rising inflection takes place on the repeating word or 
thought, as, 

Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give 
its sanction to measures thus obtruded and forced upon us ? 

Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourish- 
ing kingdom to scorn and contempt ! 

Note. — Series denotes an enumeration of particulars. If the enumeration consists 
of single words, it is called a simple series; when it consists of several words, it is 
called a compoimd series. When the sense requires that there should be a rising 
slide on the last particular, the series is called the commencing series; and when the 
sense requires the falling slide on the last particular, it is called the concluding series. 

Rule 13. 
The rising inflection is made on the last particular of a com- 
mencing series ; and on the last but one in a concluding series. 

Rule 14. 

The falling inflection takes place on all the particulars but the 
last in a commencing series, and on all but the last but one in 
a concluding series. 

(Commencir.g Series.) To advise the ignorant, relieve the 



THE INFLECTIONS. 19 

needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way : 

almost every day in our lives. 

(Concluding Series.) Nature has laid out all her art in beau- 
tifying the face ; she has touched it with vermilion, planted in 

it a row of ivory, made it the seat of smiles and blushes, lighted 

it up and enlivened it with the brightness of the eyes, hung it 

on each side with curious organs of sense, given it airs and 

graces that cannot be described, and surrounded it with such a 
flowing shade of hair, as sets all its beauties in the most 
agreeable light. 

Rule 15. 

The falling inflection takes place when the sense is finish- 
ed, when an affirmation is made, or a command is given, as, 

Nothing valuable can be gained without labor. 

Charge, Chester! charge! On, Stanley! on! 

Rule 16. 
The falling inflection takes place at the end of questions be- 
ginning with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, as, 
What is your name ? 

Who comes here ? 
When shall you go ? 

Rule 17. 

The falling inflection takes place on a clause which 
makes perfect sense of itself, followed by a clause which 
merely illustrates or gives something additional, and not as a 
consequence of what is in the first clause, as, 

An elevated genius employed in little things, appears like 
the sun in his evening declination ; he remits his splendor, but 

retains his magnitude ; and pleases more, though he dazzles less. 



Note.— The foregoing are only a part of the general rules which relate to the 
tions. But they are deemed sufficient for general purposes. 

It should also be remarked, that any of the general rules of inflections may be varied 
by emphasis. 



20 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

CHAPTER VI. 

EIGHTEENTH LESSON. 

EMPHASIS. 

By emphasis is meant a stronger and fuller utterance of a 
word or words. As a general rule, words expressing ideas of 
special importance, and those contrasted with, contradistin- 
guished from, or opposed to, other words expressed or under- 
stood, are always emphatical : as Ccesar was a general ; Cicero 
was an orator ; Solomon was wise ; Samson was strong ; 
the sun shines by dag, the moon by night ; good men delight 
in virtue, bad men in vice. 

CHAPTER VII. 

NINETEENTH LESSON. 

THE KEYS OR PITCHES OP THE VOICE. 

Note. — A change of key is generally required at the beginning of 
a new sentence. 

The principal keys of the voice are the low, the middle, and 
the high. The low key is adapted to solemn subjects ; as : 

The Lord, the Sovereign sends his summons forth, 
Calls the south nations and awakes the north ; 
From east to west the sounding orders spread, 
Through distant worlds and regions of the dead. 

The middle key is adapted to commence conversation and 
unexciting subjects ; as : 

I brino; fresh showers for the thirsting; flowers, 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
In their noon-day dreams. 

The high key is adapted to intensely exciting subjects ; as : 

Arm ! arm ! Your country bids you arm ! 

Fling out your banners free, — 
Let drum and trumpet sound alarm, 

O'er mountain, plain and sea. 



VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 21 

CHAPTER VIII. 

TWENTIETH LESSON". 

VOCAL GYMNASTICS, OR EXERCISES FOR THE LUNGS 
AND YOCAL ORGANS. 

The importance of uniting physical with mental culture has 
long been appreciated and advocated by reflecting men inter- 
ested in the great cause of education ; and it may safely be 
predicted that, within a few years, gymnastics, in various forms, 
will be extensively introduced into common schools and higher 
institutions of learning. Then, and not till then, will our studious 
youth, our literary and professional men fully exemplify the phrase, 
" Mens sana in corpore sana" — A sound mind in a sound body. 
The plan herein adopted has been thoroughly and successfully 
tested in many classes, containing from fifty to three hundred 
pupils, drilled in concert, not only in vocal gymnastics but in 
reading and declamation. Every fair experiment conclusively 
proves that these exercises peculiarly strengthen the lungs and 
vocal organs, and impart health and vigor to the physical and 
mental powers, while they improve the quality of the voice and 
secure rapid improvement in reading and declamation. 

The plan is therefore earnestly commended to teachers, with 
a firm persuasion that a fair trial, on their part, will fully verify 
these conclusions, derived from experience. 

Fig. 1. Note.— Make every motion in this and the other 

exercises quickly and forcibly, and pronounce every 
sound with special force, never failing to inhale a 
full breath before pronouncing the word or any 
part of a word. Generally keep the hands closely 
y — — * clinched, unless dumb bells are used. 

Order — " Take Posture." — At this order, as- 
sume the posture of Fig. 1. 

Or. — " Arms Forward." — At this order, pro- 
ject the arms forward, at the same time inhaling 
a full breath. 




22 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Or. — " Arms Backward." — At this order, throw the arms 
back as far as possible, at the same time articulating one of the 
vowels below. Continue Hhis exercise till all the vowels are ar- 
ticulated. Counting may also be added to this exercise ; count 
the whole numbers below with one breath, making a motion at 
every number, counting may also be added under each figure, at 
the option of the teacher. 



1 2 3 4 1 2 

bale, bar, ball, bat, cede, pen, p 



2. 1 2 3 12 3 4 

ne, pin, note, move, nor, pure> tune, full, sun. 



1 2 



The Vowels may be repeated under each Figure. 

5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 



TWENTY-FIRST LESSON. 



Take Posture." — Assume the posture 



•%• 2. Order- 

of Fig. 2. 

Or.--" Elbows Forward." — Throw the elbows for- 
ward as far as possible, at the same time pronouncing 
the part of the word before the hyphen. 

Or. — " Elbows Backward." — Throw the elbows 
back as far as possible, pronouncing the elementary 
sound (not the name) of the consonant after the 
hyphen ; then repeat the motions, inhaling the 
breath with the forward motion, and pronouncing 
the whole word with the backward motion. In a similar man- 
ner, perform the exercises under each of the followin 
except Figs. 6, 7, and 9. 




g figures, 



dee-p 


deep 


deep 


rea-p 


reap 


reap 


pee-p 
hea-p 


peep 
heap 


peep 
heap 


2 3 4 


5 6 7 


8 9 10 



ba-be 
gle-be 
gi-be 
lo-be 



babe 
glebe 
gibe 
lobe 



babe 
glebe 
gibe 
lobe 



11 12 .13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 



VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 



2& 



Fig. 3. 




Order — " Arras upward !" — Throw the arms up- 
ward as on Fig. 3, pronouncing the part of the word 
before the hyphen. 

Or. — " Elbows downward." — Lower the elbows 
to the point indicated by the stars, keeping the arms 
and hands in a vertical direction, or pointing up- 
wards. In other respects follow the directions at 
Fig. 2. 



bee-f 


beef 


beef 


ga-ve 


gave 


gave 


lea-f 


leaf 


leaf 


la-ve 


lave 


lave 


sa-fe 


safe 


safe 


sa-ve 


save 


save 


fi-fe 


fife 


fife 


ra-ve 


rave 


rave 



12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 



Fig. 4. 




Order — "Arms Forward." — Project the arms 
of Fig. 4. ■ 

Or. — "Arms backward," — Throw the arms as 
far behind as possible, so as to approach each 
other as nearly as possible. In other respects 
follow the directions at Fig. 2. 



bai-t 


bait 


bait 


fa-de 


fade 


fade 


da-te 


date 


date 


dee-d 


deed 


deed 


bea-t 


beat 


beat 


si-de 


side 


side 


ci-te 


cite 


cite 


loa-d 


load 


load 


10 11 


12 13 14 


15 16 1 


7 18 19 


20 21 22 


23 24 25 



Fig. 5. 




Order — " Hands upward," — Kaise the hands 
as on Fig. 5. 

Or.—" Hands downward." — Lower them to 
the point indicated by the stars. In other re- 
spects follow the directions at Fig. 2. 



ca-se 


case 


case 


ga-ze 


gaze 


gaze 


cea-se 


cease 


cease 


ma-ze 


maze 


maze 


lea-se 


lease 


lease 


free-ze 


freeze 


freeze 


do-se 


dose 


dose 


si-ze 


size 


size 



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30. 



24 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig. 6. 




TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. 

Order — " Take posture." — Assume the pos- 
ture of Fig. 6, 

Or. — " Alternate motions." — Move the arms 
alternately, as indicated, in the same figure, 
pronouncing the parts of words and whole 
words alternately. In other respects follow 
the directions at Fig. 2. 



bo-th 


both 


both 


ba-the bathe athe 


oa-th 


oath 


oath 


brea-the breathe reathe 


fai-th 


faith 


faith 


wri-the writhe writhe 


tee-th 


teeth 


teeth 


clo-the clothe lothe 



12 3 



9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 



Fig. 1. 




Order — " Take posture." — Assume 
the position as on Fig. 7. 

Or. — " Alternate motions." In other 
respects follow the directions at Fig. 6. 



ba-ke 


bake 


bake 


ca-ke 


cake 


cake 


ma-ke 


make 


make 


bea-k 


beak 


beak 


pla-gue 


plague 


plague 


vo-gue 


vogue 


vogue 


ro-gue 


rogue 


rogue 


lea-gue 


league 


league 



12345 



10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 



Fig. 8. 




Order — " Take posture." — Assume 
the posture of Fig. 8. 

Or. — " Fingers to shoulders." Bring 
the fingers to the shoulders, in the di- 
rection indicated by Fig. 8. 

Or. — "Arms extended." Extend 
the arms as in Fig. 8. In other re- 
spects follow the directions at Fig. 2. 



ra-ge 
sa-ge 
lie-ge 



rage 
sage 
lieg-e 



rage 
sage 
liege 



4 5 6 7 8 9 S.O 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 



VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 



25 



TWENTY-THIRD LESSOK 



Fig. 9. 



Order — " Take Posture/' — Assume 
the posture of Fig. 9. 

Or.—" Strike Chest."— Strike the 
chest with clinched hand alternately, 
striking with the right hand first. In 
other respects follow the directions at 
Fig. 6. 




ai-m 
ca-me 
da-me 
fa-me 



aim 
came 
dame 
fame 



aim 
came 
dame 
fame 



foa-m 
ho-me 
doo-m 
loo-m 



foam 
home 
doom 
loom 



foam 
home 
doom 
loom 



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 



Fig. 10. 




gai-n 
fa-ne 



Order. — " Take Posture. " — Assume the 
posture of Fig. 10. 

Or. — " Forward and Backward." — Throw 
the arms in the direction represented by the 
line, to the point indicated by the star. In 
other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. 



gain 
fane 



bane 
cane 
gain 
fane 



li-ne 
lo-ne 
pru-ne 
tu-ne 



line 
lone 
prune 
tune 



line 
lone 
prune 

tune 



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. 



Order — " Take Posture." — Assume the posture 
of Fig. 11. 

Or. — " Arms around Head." — Swing the arms 
alternately around the head as far back as possible. 
In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 6. 



pile 
pole 
sole 
rule 



Fig. 11. 



ba-le bale 


bale 


pi-le 


da-le dale 


dale 


po-le 


ha-le hale 


hale 


so-le 


fai-1 fail 


fail 


ru-le 


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 1' 


18 19 20 5 




Fig. 12. 




r-ave 


rave 


rave 


r-ain 

r-eel 


rain 
reel 


rain 
reel 


r-ise 
ba-ng 


rise 
bang 


rise 
bang 


ra-ng 
cla-ng 


rang 
clang 


rang 
clang 



Order— " Take Posture."— As- 
sume the posture of Fig. 12. 

Or.—" Arms Upward."— Throw 
the arms over the head till they 
meet, then throw them down for- 
cibly to their position, as on the 
figure. In other respects follow 
the directions at Fig. 2. 



ba-r 


bar 


bar 


ca-r 


car 


car 


fa-r 


far 


far 


rna-r 


mar 


mar 


sa-ng 


sang 


sang 


so-ng 


song 


song 


wro-ng 


wrong 


wron. 



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. tl 



CHAPTER IX. 



TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

Note.— In the following selections the capital letter (R) denotes the place for res- 
piration, or drawing the breath. But let it not be understood that the places thus de- 
noted are the only places at which the breath should be taken ; or, that it should 
always be taken at them, unless as an exeroise for the voice. Some persons can read, 
speak, or sing much longer with one breath, than others. Therefore no definite rules 
for respiration should be given. 



THE RAINBOW. 

Baldwin's Lond. Magazine. 

(R) The evening was glorious, and light through the trees 
(R) Play'd the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the 

breeze, 
(R) The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay 
(R) On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 

(R) For the queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down the vale, 
Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale ; 

(R) And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, 
And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers 

(R) The skies, like a banner in sun-set unroll'd, 

O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold ; 

(R) But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd, 
Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith, and east. 

(R) We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glow'd, 
When a vision of beauty appear'd on the cloud ; — 

(R) 'Twas not like the Sun, as at mid-day we view, 

Nor the Moon, that rolls nightly through star-light and blue 

(R) Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm ! 

And the eye, and the heart, hail'd its beautiful form, 
fR) For it look'd not severe, like an Angel of Wrath, 

But its garment of brightness illumed its dark path. 



28 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. 

(R) In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood, 
O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood; 

(R) .And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright, 
As conscious they gave and afforded delight. 

V R) 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand 
Whose grasp at Creation the universe spann'd ; 

V R) 'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime. 
His vow from the flood to the exit of time. 

(R) Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads, 

When storms are his chariot, and lightnings his steeds, 

(R) The" black clouds his banner of vengeance unfurl'd, 
And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world ;— . 

(R) In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire, 
And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, 

(R) And the sword and the plague-spot, with death strew the 
plain, 
And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain 

(R) Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one ! 

Whose arch was refraction, its keystone — the Sun , 
(R) A pavilion it seem'd which the Deity graced, 

And Justice and Mercy met there, and embraced 

(R) Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom, 

Like Love o'er a death couch, or Hope o'er the tomb ; 
Then left the dark scene ; whence it slowly retired, 
As Love had just vanished, or Hope had expired 

• Jt) I gazed not alone on that source of my song ; 
To all who beheld it these verses belong ; 
Its presence to all was the path of the Lord ! 
Each full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored. 

(R) Like a visit — the converse of friends — or a day, 
That bow, from my sight, passed for ever away : 
Like that visit, that converse, that day — to my heart, 
Tli at bow from remembrance can never depart. 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 29 

(R) 'Tis a picture in memory distinctly denned, 

With the strong and unperishing colors of mind : 

A part of my being beyond my control, 

Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul. 

TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

Extract from Heroines of Sacred History, by Mrs. Steele 

HEROISM OF DEBORAH. 

(R) Night with her lustrous stars, her silence and repose, 
had passed away, (R) and soft-eyed dawn, heralded by gentle 
zephyrs, and breathing out perfume, (R) arose from Asia's mists 
like the poet's Venus from the sea, (R) all smiles and gladness. 
(R) Each flower threw out its fairy petals, (R) and wafted forth 
its fragrant incense to the day. (R) Almond and citron blossoms, 
brilliant pomegranate, (R) and oleander tossed the dew from 
their delicate heads, (R) and shook their fragile branches in the 
morning breeze. (R) The birds were on every bough (R) sing- 
ing their rejoicings to the coming day; (R) for as yet the sun 
had not appeared, (R) but clouds of rose and purple told of his 
near approach, (R) and threw a softened radiance over plain 
and hill and valley. (R) A clear and gentle river — Kishon, (R) 
"that ancient river, the river Kishon," (R) wound through the 
verdant plain. (R) By its side arose a sloping hill, (R) whose 
summit was crowned by a grove of oaks and elms, (R) among 
whose shadows a lordly temple was just made visible (R) as 
the sim's first rays fell on the hill-top, (R) while all below still 
lay in shade. (R) The rising light revealed its snowy porticos 
and lofty arches, (R) and graceful columns of rare proportion ; 
(R) then passing down the hill shone on a procession of solemn 
worshippers (R) who were winding along the river's bank, and 
ascending to the temple above. (R) Conspicuous among the 
throng were the sacred oxen, (R) who gaily decorated with 
ribbons, and wreathed with roses, (R) were led by young boys 
clad in white robes (R) and crowned with garlands. (R) Behind 
them came a train of women dancing, ( - R) and singing to in- 
struments of music ; (R) while preceding and around the vic- 
tims were several hundred priests (R) whose black robes threw 
the only shadow over a landscape (R) now brightly illumin- 



30 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

ed by the broadly risen sun. (R) The procession ascended the 
hill ; (R) the temple doors were thrown open ; (R) the priests 
entered and advanced to the altar. (R) There upon two pedes- 
tals, stood the gods they came to worship. (R) The one, a man 
cast in brass, having an ox's head — (R) the other of marble, and 
human shape, clothed in a coat of golden mail, (R) wearing a 
crown and wielding a sword; (R) the former was Moloch, and 
the latter Baal (R) To these gods of marble and gold (R) the 
priests and people had come to ask for protection from a pow- 
erful enemy, (R) who in predatory bands made inroads upon 
them, (R) and carried away flocks, and people, and goods. 

Reader., canst thou say in what land arose this temple, (R) 
these images of marble, and these idol worshippeis ? (R) Canst 
thou believe it was in Israel ? (R) In the promised land ? (R) 
Alas — it was the dear-bought land of Canaan (R) and these de- 
luded idolators were the sons of Judah, (R) once God's own 
peculiar people ! 

TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON 

Extract from the same. 

HEROISM OF JEPTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 

The city of Gilead was filled with rejoicing (R) that their 
enemy was repelled, (R) and its streets were crowded with 
the citizens, (R) eager to behold the triumphant entry (R) of 
their victorious leader. (R) Jepthah approached, seated in a 
brazen chariot (R) surrounded by his steel clad warriors. (R) 
His robe of blue embroidered with gold, (R) was bound by a 
broad girdle of golden mail, (R) a sword hung in chains from 
his side, and shoes of brass defended his feet, (R) a scarlet 
mantle fell from his shoulders, and around his head (R) was a 
band of steel chain- work, from which, projected in front, (R) a 
horn of gold, giving him a fierce and terrible«appearance. (R) 
When the procession arrived before the house of Jepthah (R) 
the gate was thrown open, and a group of young girls came 
dancing forth, (R) mingling their jocund music with the cheers 
of the populace. (R) What saw the conqueror in yon joyous 
train, (R) that he started as if a shot from the enemy's archers 
had stricken him ! — (R) why bowed his lofty head unto his 
bosom ? (R) At the head of the youthful train came the hero's 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 31 

daughter, his only child, (R) holding aloft the sweet sounding 
timbrel, and attired as became a ruler's daughter, (R) in a robe 
of divers colors, richly embroidered (R) with gorgeous feather- 
work, and gold, and silk of varied dyes. (R) A fillet of white 
roses bound her dark tresses, (R) and her tiny feet were 
strapped hi scarlet sandals, (R) Smiles lighted up her fan- 
face, and her soft dove's eyes (R) beamed with filial tender- 
ness (R) when raised to her lordly father. 

(R) Behind her, were the maidens of Gilead, clad in white, 
with chapiets of red roses; (R) their slender ancles circled 
with silver bells. (R) Like leaves from a gay parterre* swept 
onward by a summer freeze, (R) these lovely flow'rets floated 
in mazy wnirls V R) until beside the chariot of the conqueror. 
(R) The daughter of Jepthah approached her father, (R) and 
when the people looked to see him fold her hi his embrace (R) 
with a frantic start, he rent the bosom of his gilded robe, (R) 
and covering his head with his mantle (R) he groaned with 
anguish. (R) " My father !" said a gentle voice beside him. 
(R) " Alas, my daughter !" (R) cried the conqueror, with a burst 
of agony (R ) — " From my high estate of joy thou hast brought 
me low down in the dust !" (R) There was deep silence 
while he spoke — " God, forgive me ! (R) my child, forgive 
me ! (R) When I faced the children of Ammon in battle, (R) I 
vowed, if the Lord would deliver them into my hands, (R) I 
would offer up, as sacrifice unto him, (R) the first that came 
forth from my house to meet me ! (R) Thou art the first — my 
child ! my only one !" 

(R) A deep consternation fell upon the hearts of all, when 
this rash vow was heard — (R) on all, save upon that fair and 
gentle creature who was the victim. (R) With brow unblanch- 
ed, and with a glow of generous self-devotion, she said to 
Jepthah — " (R) My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth to 
the Lord, (R) do unto me as thou hast vowed. (R) Thy God 
hath made thee conqueror over thy enemies — (R) the children 
of Ammon have fallen before thee, (R) and if I am to be the 
price of victory, (R) take me and do unto me according to thy 
vow. (R) I die for my country and for my father — (R) hi that 
death there is no bitterness." 

* Parterre pronounced partare—a. flower-garden. 



32 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. 

CHAPTER X. 

TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

GESTURE. 

Fig. 1. 




A graceful and impressive action is one of the highest ac- 
complishments of the orator. So it was deemed by the cele- 
brated orators of Athens and Rome. Its importance gives it a 
just claim to the special attention of teachers of Elocution. But 
in a volume of this size, a full treatise on this subject cannot be 
expected. 

The following figures are designed to give the pupil a gene- 
ral idea of appropriate gestures, and to enable him to exercise 
his own taste and judgment, in the use of such other gestures, 
as may enforce and illustrate the various thoughts and senti- 
ments he may be called upon to utter 

SOME OF THE SIGNIFICANT GESTURES. 

The Head and Face. 
The hanging down of the head denotes shame or grief 
The holding of it up, pride or courage. 
To nod forward implies assent. 
To toss the head back, dissent. 

The inclination of the head implies bashfulness or languor 
The head is averted in dislike or horror. 
If Vans forward in attention 



GESTURE. 33 

The Eyes 
The eyes are raised in prayer. 
They weep in sorrow. 
They burn in anger. 
They are downcast or averted in anger 
They are cast on vacancy in thought. 
They are thrown in different directions in doubt and anxiety. 

The Arms. 
The arm is projected forward in authority. 
Both arms are spread extended in admiration. 
They are both held forward in imploring help 
They both fall suddenly in disappointment. 

The Hands. 
The hand on the head indicates pain or distress 
On the eyes, shame. 
On the lips, injunction of silence. 

On the breast, it appeals to conscience, or intimates strong 
internal emotion. 

The hand waves or nourishes in joy or contempt 

Both hands are held supine, applied or clasped in prayer. 

Both descend prone in blessing. 

They are clasped or wrung m affliction 

The Body 
The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and courage 
Thrown back, pride. 

Stooping forward, condescension or compassion. 
Bending, reverence or respect. 
Prostration, the utmost humility or abasement. 

TJie Lower Limbs. 
Their firm position signifies courage or obstinacy 
Bended knees, timidity or weakness. 
Frequent change, disturbed thoughts 
They advance in desire or courage. 
Retire in aversion or fear. 
Start in terror. 

Stamp in authority or anger. 
Kneel in submission and prayer . 



34 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



\ 



lj.It.ii. 



Fig. 2. 

a.li.2. 



p,2. / 

\ i 

\ I 



c.R.1. 




xX.l 



In the second and third figures, the foot which is deeply shaded supports 
the principal part of the body, and that which is lightly shaded rests lightly 
upon the floor. The resting foot moves first, in changing the position. 

The two feet in the centre of each figure represent the starting point, or 
original position. The direction in which the feet move, is marked by dotted 
lines. The line in which the first foot moves is distinguished by a star. In 
each figure four steps may be made from each starting point or original po- 
sition. 

R. 1. Denotes right foot first position. I L. 1. Denotes left foot first position. 
R. 2. " right foot second position. | L. 2. " left foot second position. 

a. Advancing. c. Crossing. r. Retreating. tr. Traversing. 



GESTURE. 35 

J*^. 4. Pig. 5. 





POINTING TO THE ZENITH. CONVERSATION. 

In Figures 3 and 4, r is abbreviated for rest, d for down- 
wards, h for horizontal, e for elevated, z for zenith ; denoting 
the direction of the arm. 



Fig. 6 





APPEALING TO CONSCIENCE. 



INTENSE GRIEF 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig. 8. 



Fig fc 





EARNEST APPEAL 



HORROR OR EXTREME AVERSION 



Flg.l* 



Fig. 11 





ADMIRATION OF SURROUNDING 
OBJECTS 



APPEALING TO HEAVEN. 



GESTURE 



37 



Fig. 12 



Fig. 13. 





Fig. U. 



Fig 15 





MELANCHOLY 



DISTRESS 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 
Fig. 16. Fig. 17. 




" A widow cries, Be husband 
to me, heaven." 

King John, act 3, sc 1 




This arm shall vindicate a 
father's cause 

Grecian Daughter scene last 



Fig. 18. 




" See w~here she stands 
like Helen." 

Fair Penitent, act 5, sc. 1. 




" Jehovah's arm snatched 
from the waves and brings 
to me my child." 

Douglas, act 3, sc. 2 



GESTURE. 



3D 



TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. 

Note. —The little stars in each of the following figures show the place of the posi- 
tion of the hands in the preceding figure ; and the dotted lines show the direction of 
transition from one gesture to another. But it may not be advisable to aim at precise 
imitation in making the transitions. These lines, as well as the figures to which 
they are attached, are designed to serve only as a general guide. 



THE MISER AND PLUTUS. 



Fig. 20. 



Fig. 21. 





The wind was high— 



the window shakes; 



Fig. 22. 



Fig. 23 





With sudden start the miser 
wakes ' 



Along the silent room he 
stalks: 



40 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Fig. 24. Fig. 25 





Looks back, 



and trembles as he walks i 



Fig. '26. 



Fig. 27 




Each lock, and every 
bolt he tries, 




In ev'ry creek and cornel 

pries ; 



Fig. 23. 




Then opes his chest, with 
treasure stor'd, 




And stands in rapture o'er 
his hoard : 



GESTURE 



41 



Fig. 30 



Fig. 31. 




But now with sudden 
qualms possest, 




He wrings his hands; he 
beats his breast- 



Fig. 32 



Fig. 33. 




By conscience stung, he 
wildly stares ; 




A.nd thus his guilty sowi 
declares : 



Fig. 34. 



Fig. "So 




Had the deep earth her 
stores confm'd, 
5* 




This heart had known 
sweet peace of miad; 



42 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Fig. 36. Fig. 37. 




But virtue's sold 

Fig. 38. 




Can recompense the pangs 
of vice ? 



Fig. 40. 





Good gods ! what price 

Fig. 39. 




Obane of good! 
seducing cheat ! 




Can man, weak man, 



thy power defeat ? 



GESTURE. 



43 



Fig. 42. 



Fig. 43. 




Gold banish'd honor from 
the mind, 

Fig. 44. 




Gold sow'd the world with 
ev'ry ill ; 

Fig. 46. 




Twas gold instructed coward 
hearts 




And only left the name 
behind; 

Fig. 45 




Gold taught the murd'rer's 
sword to kill : 

F$g. 47. 




In treach'ry's more 
pernicious arts, 



44 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



J^.48. 



Fig. 49v 





Who can recount the 
mischiefs o'er ? 



Virtue resides on 
earth no more ' 



THE SAME WITHOUT THE FIGURES 

The wind was high — the window shakes ; 

With sudden start the miser wakes ! 

Along the silent room he stalks ; 

Looks back, and trembles as he walks ! 

Each lock, and every bolt he tries, 

In ev'ry creek and corner pries ; 

Then opes his chest, with treasure stor'd, 

And stands in rapture o'er his hoard : 

But now with sudden qualms possest, 

He wrings his hands ; he beats his breast — 

By conscience stung, he wildly stares ; 

And thus his guilty soul declares : 

Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, 

This heart had known sweet peace of mind : 

But virtue's sold ! good gods ! what price 

Can recompense the pangs of vice ' 

bane of good ! seducing cheat ! 

Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ? 

Gold banish'd honor from the mind, 

And only left the name behind ; 

Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill ; 

Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill - 

'Twas gold instructed coward hearts 

In treach'ry's more pernicious arts. 

Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? 

Virtue resides on earth no more ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 45 



CHAPTER XI. 

SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

Note.— In the following Selections the sign of the Rhetorical Pause is made in 
most ?{ the places authorized by the Rules of Rhetorical Punctuation. A strict atten- 
tion to these pauses will conduce greatly to the pupil's improvement in Elocution.— 
The Sections are made short to accommodate young pupils, and those who may not 
w'sh to commit to memory a whole Lesson. 

THIRTIETH LESSON. 
SPEECH OF JAMES OTIS. Francis. 

Section 1. 

England | may as well dam up the waters of tlie Nile | with 
bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and 
firm | in this youthful land, than where she treads the seques- 
tered* glens of Scotland, or couches herself | among the mag* 
nificent mountains | of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like 
those against which we now contend, have cost one king of 
England his life, another his crown, and they may yet cost a 
third his most flourishing colonies. 

We are two millions — one-fifth fighting men. We are bold 
and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation, 
from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, 
and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance; but it 
must not, and it never can be extorted.f 

, Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too poor 
to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ?" No ! America, 
thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten 
pounds, implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must 
be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? 
True, the spectre^ is now small; but the shadow | he casts 
before him | is huge enough to darken all this fair land 
Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of grati- 
tude | which we owe to England. And what is the amount 
of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion 
owes to the dam, which has brought it forth | on the solitude 

* Sequestered, secluded — at a distance from other inhabited places. 

t Extorted, gained by force. t Spectre, an apparition — a ghost 



46 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

of the mountain, or left it | amid the winds and storms of the 
desert. 

Section 2. 

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom 
in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were behind us. We 
have waked the new world from its savage lethargy ;* forests 
have been prostrated I in our path; towns and cities have 
grown up suddenly I as the flowers of the tropics,f and the 
fires | in our autumnal woods j are scarcely more rapid than 
the increase of our wealth | and population. And do we owe 
all this "| to the kind succor of the mother country ? No ! we 
owe it to the tyranny | that drove us from her j to the pelting 
storms j which invigorated our helpless infancy 

But perhaps others will say, "We ask no money | from your 
gratitude^-we only demand | that you should pay your own 
expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? 
Why, the king — (and with all due reverence | to his sacred 
majesty, he understands the real wants j of his distant sub- 
jects, as little | as he does the language of the Choctaws.) 
Who is to judge | concerning the frequency of these demands ? 
The ministry. Who is to judge | whether the money | is pro- 
perly expended ? The cabinet | behind the throne. In every 
instance, those who take are to judge J for those who pay; if 
this system | is suffered to go into operation, we shall have 
reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and dew | do 
not depend upon Parliament; otherwise | they would soon be 
taxed and dried. 

But thanks to God there is freedom enough left Upon earth | ■ 
to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty j is 
extinguished^ | in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing 
embers | is still bright and strong | on the shores of America. 
Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist | unto death. 
But we will not countenance anarchy§ and misrule. The 
wrongs, that a desperate community | have heaped upon then 
enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may 
be well | for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted | 
in these colonies, which one breath of their king | may kindle 
into such fury, that the blood of all England | cannot extinguish it. 

* Lethargy, stupidity, dulness. X Extinguished, put out, quenched 

t Tropics, warm countries near the equator. § Jlnarchy, want of government. 






SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 47 

THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. 
THE AMERICAN INDIANS.— SpmgUe. 

Section 1. 
R*J)ll back the tide of time. Not many generations ago, 
where yon now sit, circled with all that exalts and embellishes* 
civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild 
fox | dug his hole | unscared. Here lived and loved | another 
race of beings. Beneath the same sun | that rolls over your 
heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on 
the same moon | that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed 
his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze | beamed on the 
tender and helpless, the council fire glared | on the wise and 
daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs | in your sedgyf 
lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe | along yout 
rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the 
bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and 
when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 
Here, too, they worshipped ; and | from many a dark bosom | 
went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written 
his laws for them | on tables of stone, but He had traced them 
| on the tables of their hearts. 

Section 2. 

The poor child of nature | knew not the God of revelation, 
but the God of the universe | he acknowledged | in everything 
around. He beheld him | in the star that sunk in beauty | be- 
hind his lonely dwelling ; in the sacred orb | that flamed on 
him | from his midday throne ; in the flower that snapped | in 
the morning breeze ; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand 
whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler | that never left its native 
grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in 
clouds ; in the worm | that crawled at his foot ; and in his own 
matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose 
mysterious source he bent, in humble, though blind adoration. 

And all this has passed away Across the ocean | came a 

* Evibellishes, makes beautiful. t Sedgy, overgrown with flags. 



48 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The formei 
J were sown for yon ; the latter | sprang up in the path of the 
simple native. Two hundred years | have changed the char- 
acter | of a great continent, and blotted for ever | from its face 
j a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of 
nature, and the anointed children of education | have been too 
powerful | for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a 
stricken few remain, but how unlike their bold, untameable 
progenitors !* 

Section 3. 

The Indian, of falconf glance, and lion bearing, the theme of 
the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone ; and 
his degraded offspring | crawl upon the soil | where he walked 
hi majesty, to remind us how miserable is man | when the foot 
of the conqueror | is on his neck. 

As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows 
are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the 
dust. Their council fire | has long since gone out on the 
shore, and their war-cry | is fast dying j to the untrodden west. 
Slowly and sadly | they climb the distant mountains, and read 
their doom | in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the 
mighty tide | which is pressing them away ; they must soon 
hear the roar | of the last wave, which will settle over them [ 
for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive^ white man, as he stands 
by some growing city, will ponder | on the structure of their 
disturbed remains, and wonder | to what manner of person 
they belonged. They will live only J in the songs and chro- 
nicles | of their exterminators. § Let these be faithful j to their 
rude virtues | as men, and pay due tribute | to their unhappy 
fate | as a people. 

* Progenitors, forefathers. 

t Falcon, pronounced fawk'n — like a hawk. 

t Inquisitive, inquiring with curiosity. 

j|. Exterminators, those who drove them away 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 49 

THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. 
LAFAYETTE. SprdgUe. 

Section 1. 

While we bring our offerings | for the mighty of our own 
land, shall we not remember the chivalrous* spirits of other 
shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and wo ? 
Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of glory, let the lips of 
those | who can speak well, hallow each spot | where the 
bones of your Bold repose ; but forget not those | who with 
your Bold | went out to battle. 

Among these men of noble daring, there was One, a young 
and gallantf stranger, who left the blushing vine -hills | of his 
delightful France. The people whom he came to succor, 
were not his people ; he knew them only | in the wicked story 
of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for 
the spoil of the vanquished ; the palace acknowledged him for 
its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no 
nameless man, staking life for reputation ; he ranked among 
nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless 
outcast, seeking for a grave | to hide his cold heart ; he was 
girdled | by the companions of his childhood, his kinsmen 
were about him, his wife was before him. 

Section 2. 
Yet from all these he turned away, and came. Like a lofty 
tree, that shakes down its green glories | to battle with the 
winter storm, he flung aside the trappings^ of place and pride, 
to crusade for freedom, in freedom's holy land. He came — 
but not in the day of successful rebellion, not when the new- 
risen sun of independence | had burst the cloud of time and 
careered to its place in the heavens. He came | when dark- 
ness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its 
anger; when the plough stood still | in the field of promise, 
and briers cumbered the garden of beauty ; when fathers were 
dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife 

* Chivalrous, brave. $ Trappings, ornaments. 

1 Gallant, brave. 

5 



50 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the 
maiden was wiping the death damp | from the brow of her 
lover. He came [ when the brave began to fear the power of 
man, and the pious | to doubt the favor of God. 

It was then | that this One joined the ranks of a revolted* 
people. Freedom's little phalanxf bade him a grateful wel- 
come. With them he courted the battle's rage, with their's his 
arm was lifted ; with their's his blood was shed. Long and 
doubtful was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled | on 
the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane 
were driven | from the temple of liberty, and | at her pure 
shrine | the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt 
and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an 
uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with 
benedictions, turned his happy feet | towards his long-deserted 
home 

Section 3. 

After nearly fifty years | that One has come again. Can 
mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that 
coming ? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and their loud, long, 
transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, 
undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated na- 
tion comes round him. Old men bless him, and children rever- 
ence him. The lovely come out to look upon him, the learned 
deck their halls to greet him, the rulers of the land rise up to do 
aim homage. How his full heart labors ! He views the rust- 
mg trophies of departed days, he treads the high places | where 
his brethren moulder, he bends | before the tomb of his "Fa- 
ther :" — his words are tears : the speech of sad remembrance. 
But he looks round j upon aransomedland | and a joyous race ; 
he beholds the blessings | those trophies secured, for which 
those brethren died, for which that " Father" lived ; and again 
his words are tears ; the eloquence of gratitude and joy. 

Spread forth creation like a map ; bid earth's dead multitude 
revive ; — and of all the pageant splendors | that ever glittered 
to the sun, when looked his burning eye | on a sight like this ? 

* Revolted, rebellious, that had renounced allegiance to their king, 
t Phalanx, a body of soldiers. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 51 

Of all the myriads | that have come and gone, what cherished 
minion | ever ruled an hour like this ? Many have struck the 
redeeming blow | for their own freedom ; but who, like this 
man, has bared his bosom | in the cause of strangers ? Others 
have lived | in the love of their own people, but who, like this 
man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome | with another i 
Matchless chief ! of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for hinx 
for him alone ! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor ; the 
everlasting flame of liberty | shall guard it, that the generations 
a" men J may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved 
name | of La Fayette ! 



THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. 

ENGLISH TAXES. 
Edinburgh Review. 
Section 1. 
Permit me to inform you, my friends, what are the inevita- 
ble consequences | of being too fond of glory ; — Taxes — upon 
every article | which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, 
or is placed under the foot — taxes upon everything | which is 
pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste — taxes upon warmth, 
Light, and locomotion* — taxes on everything on earth, and the 
waters under the earth — on everything that comes from 
abroad, or is grown at home — taxes on the raw material — 
taxes on every fresh value | that is added to it | by the indus- 
try of man — taxes on the sauce | which pampers man's appe- 
tite, and the drug | which restores him to health — on the er^ 
mine* | which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs 
the criminal — on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice 
— on the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribands of the 
bride. * * * * 

Section 2. 
The school-boy | whips his taxed top — the beardless youth 
| manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, | on a taxed 
road ; — and the dying Englishman | pouring his medicine 

* Locomotion, act of moving from one place to another. 
t £7"-*»?,t'ne>thefurofan animal called the Ermine. 



52 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

which has paid seven per cent. Into a spoon | that has paid 
fifteen per cent. — flings himself back | upon his chintz bed | 
which has paid twenty-two per cent. — makes his will | on an 
eight pound stamp, and expires | in the arms of an apothecary, 
who has paid a license of a hundred pounds | for the privilege 
| of putting him to death. His whole property | is then im- 
mediately taxed | from two to ten per cent. Besides the pro- 
bate, large fees are demanded for burying him | in the chancel ; 
his virtues are handed down to posterity | on taxed marble , 
and he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more. 



THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

south Carolina. — Haynes. 

Section 1. 
If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President (and I say 
it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge comparison | 
with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculat- 
ing devotion to the Union, that state | is South Carolina. Sir, 
from the very commencement of the revolution | up to this 
hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheer- 
fully made ; no service | she has ever hesitated to perform. 
She has adhered to you | in your prosperity, but in your ad- 
versity she has clung to you j with more than filial affection. 
No matter | what "was the condition of her domestic* affairs, 
though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or sur- 
rounded by difficulties, the call of the country | has been to 
her | as the voice of God. Domestic discordf ceased | at the 
sound — every man became at once | reconciled to his brethren, 
and the sons of Carolina | were all seen | crowding together to 
the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar | of their common 
country. What, sir, was the conduct of the south | during the 
revolution ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct | in 
that glorious struggle : but great as is the praise j which be- 
longs to her, I think at least | equal honor is due to the south. 



* Domestic, belonging to home. 

t Domestic discord, discord in our own country 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 53 

They espoused* the quarrel of their brethren | with generous 
zeal, which did not suffer them to stop | to calculate their in- 
terest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, pos- 
sessed of neither ships nor seamen | to create commercial 
rivalship, they might have found | in their situation a guaranty 
j that their trade would be for ever fostered j and protected by 
Great Britain. But trampling on all considerations, either of 
interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting 
for principle, periled all hi the sacred cause of freedom. Never 
was there exhibited | in the history of the world | higher 
examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endur- 
ance, than by the whigs of Carolina | during that revolution 
The whole state, from the mountain to the sea, was overrun 
by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of indus- 
try perished | on the spot | where they were produced, or 
were consumed by the foe. The if plains of Carolina" drank 
up the most precious blood of her citizens — black and smoking 
ruins | marked the places | which had been the habitations of 
her children ! Driven from their homes | into the gloomy and 
almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty 
survivedf and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her 
Sumpters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that j 
though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people j 
was invincible 4 



THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

Massachusetts. — Webster, 
Section 1. - 
The eulogium§ pronounced | on the character of the scata of 
South Carolina | by the honorable gentleman, for her revo- 
lutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence |i I 
shall not acknowledge | that the honorable member goes be- 
fore me | in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or dis- 
tinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim 

* Espoused, united in. || Eulogium, praise. 

t Survived, remained alive. $ Concurrence, assent. 

t Invincible, not to be conquered. 



54 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

part of the honor : I partake in the pride of her great names. 
I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses. 
Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions — Amer- 
icans all — whose fame is no more to be hemmed in | by state 
lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being 
circumscribed* | "within the same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation | they served and honored the 
country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the 
treasures of the whole country. Him, whose honored name 
the gentleman bears himself — does he suppose me less capable 
of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, 
than if his eyes had first opened | upon the light in Massachu- 
setts | instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in 
his power | to exhibit a Carolina name so bright | as to pro- 
duce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, — increased gratification and 
delight, rather. Sir, I thank God, that if I am gifted with little 
of the spirit | which is said to be able to raise mortals to the 
skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which 
would drag angels down. 

Section 2. 

When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the senate, 
or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to 
spring up | beyond the little limits of my own state and neigh- 
borhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, 
the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism,! to 
sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an un- 
common endowment of heaven — if I see extraordinary capa- 
city and virtue in any son of the south — and if, moved by local 
prejudice, or gangrened} by state jealousy, I get up here to 
abate the tithe of a hair | from his just character and just fame, 
may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! 

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections — let me indulge in 
refreshing remembrances of the past— let me remind you | that 
in early times no states cherished greater harmony, both of prin- 
ciple and Of feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina 
Would to God | that harmony might again return. Shoulder 

* Circumscribed, enclosed. t Gangrened, mortified, corrupted. 

t Patriotism, love of country 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 55 

to shoulder ] they went through the revolution — hand in hand 
| they stood round tne administration of Washington, and felt 
his own great arm lean on them J for support. Unkind feel- 
ing, if it exist, alienation* and distrust are the growth, un- 
natural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They 
are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scat- 
tered. 

Section 3. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomiumf upon Massa- 
chusetts — she needs none. There she is — behold her and 
judge for yourselves. There is her history — the world knows 
it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, 
and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker's Hill ; and there they 
will remain for ever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the 
great struggle for independence, now lie mingled | with the 
soil of every state, from New England to Georgia ; and there 
they will lie for ever. 

And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and 
where its youth was nurtured J and sustained, there it still lives, 
in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. 
If discord and disunion shall wound it, if party strife and 
blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, 
if uneasiness, under salutary§ and necessary restraint, shall 
succeed to separate it | from that Union, by which alone its 
existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of 
that cradle | in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch 
forth its arm | with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over 
the friends | who gather round it: and it will fall at last, if 
fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, 
and on the very spot of its origin. 



* Alienation, change ef affection. t Nurtured, nourished, cherished. 

1 Encomium, praise $ Salutary, safe, promoting good. 



56 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. 



ment of Indians in it. — Chatham. 

Section 1. 
I cannot, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation* | on 
misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilousf and 
tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation:! the 
smoothness of flattery | cannot save us J in this rugged and- 
awful crisis. § It is now necessary to instruct the throne || | in 
the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delu 
sion and darkness | which envelope it, and display, in its full 
danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our 
doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support | in their 
mfatuation ?1T Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and 
duty as to give their support to measures | thus obtruded and 
forced upon them ? Measures, my lords, which have reduced 
this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt ! But yes- 
terday, and Britain might have stood | against the world ; now 
" none so poor as to do her reverence !"** 

Section 2. 
The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom 
we now acknowledge as enemies, areabettedfj against us, sup- 
plied with every military store, have their interest consulted, 
and their ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy — 
and ministers do not, and dare not interposef | with dignity or 
effect. The desperate state of our army abroad | is in part 
known. No man more highly esteems and honors the British 
troops | than I do ; I know their virtues and their valor ;§§ I 
know they can achieve ||]| anything | but impossibilities; and I 
know { that the conquest of British America j is an impossi- 

* Congratulation, a wishing of joy. ** Reverence, veneration, respect. 

t Periloxis, full of danger. tt Abetted, encouraged, aided, supported 

t Adulation, flattery, praise. tt Interpose, interfere. 

§ Crisis, a critical time. §§ Valor, courage. 

II Tlirone, the seat of the king. ill Achieve, perform. 

f Infatuation, deprivation of reason, folly. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 57 

bility. You cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America. 
What is your present situation there ? We do not know the 
worst; but we know | that in three campaigns | we have done 
nothing, and suffered much. 

You may swell every expense, accumulate* every assistance, 
and extend your traffic | to the shambles of every German 
despot ; your attempts will be for ever vain and impoteutf — 
doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary:}: aid | on which you 
rely ; for it irritates to an incurable resentment, the minds of 
your adversaries, § to overrun them | with the mercenary sons 
of rapine|| and plunder, devoting them and their possessions | 
to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as 
I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my 
country, I never would lay down my arms — never, nevei^, 
never ! 

Section 3. 
But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the dis- 
graces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and 
associate | to our arms | the tomahawk and scalping-knife of 
the savage ? — to call into civilized alliance, the wild and inhu- 
man inhabitant of the woods ? — to delegate | to the merciless 
Indian | the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the hor- 
rors of his barbarous war | against our brethren ? My lords, 
these enormitiesir cry aloud | for redress and punishment. But, 
my lords, this barbarous measure | has been defended, not 
only | on the principles of policy and necessity, but also | on 
those of morality ; " for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord 
Suffolk, "to use all the means | which God and nature have 
put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear 
such principles confessed; to hear them avowed** in this 
house, or in this country. 

* Accumulate, collect together. 

t Impotent, weak. 

% Mercenary, hired. 

§ Adversary, an opponent, an enemy. 

II Rapine, plunder, violence. 

U Enormities, great crimes, acts of great wickedness. 

** Avowed, declared openly. 



58 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Section 4. 
My lords, I did not intend to encroach* so much | on your 
attention, but I cannot repress! my indignation — I feel myself 
impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon | as mem- 
bers of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against, 
such horrible barbarity ! — " That God and nature have put into 
our hands !" What ideas of God and nature | that. lord may 
entertain, I know not ; but T know, that such detestable prin- 
ciples | are equally abhorrent J to religion and humanity 
What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature [ to 
the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! to the cannibal! sav- 
age, torturing, murdering, devouring his mangled victims! 
Such notions | shock every precept of morality, every feeling 
of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable 
principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand 



Section 5 

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, 
to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of 
their country. I call upon the bishops | to interpose the un- 
sullied§ sanctity of their lawn ; upon the judges to interpose 
the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. | I 
call upon the honor of your lordships, to reverence the digni- 
ty of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon 
the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national 
character. I invoke the genius of the constitution. 

To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood ! 
against whom ? — your Protestant brethren ! — to lav waste their 
country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race 
and name, by the aid and instrumentality j of these horrible 
hounds of war ! Spain | can no longer boast pre-eminence|| 
in barbarity. She | armed herself with bloodhounds, to extir- 
pated the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless, 
loose these dogs of war | against our countrymen in America, 
endeared to us j by every tie j that can sanctify** humanity. 

* Encroach, intrude. |j Pre-eminence, superiority, 

f Repress, restrain. IT Extirpate, root out, destroy. 

% Cannibal, one that eats human flesh. ** Sanctify, to make sacred. 
6 Unsullied, not stained, pure. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 59 

1 solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order 
of men | in the state, to stamp | upon this infamous procedure 
j the indelible* stigmaf | of the public abhorrence. More 
particularly, I call upon the holy prelates J of our religion | to 
do away this iniquity; let them perform a lustration, to purify 
the country | from this deep and deadly sin. My lords, I am 
old and weak, and at present unable to say more ; but my 
feelings and indignation j were too strong to have said less. I 
could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed 
my head | upon my pillow, without giving vent | to my eternal 
abhorrence of such enormous§ | and preposterous|| principles. 



THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
SPEECH IN FAVOR OF WAR WITH ENGLAND. Patrick 

Henri/. 

Section 1 

Mr. President, it is natural to man | to indulge in the illu- 
sionsir of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes | against a pain- 
ful truth, and listen to the song of that siren,** till she transforms 
tis into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great 
and arduousff struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of 
the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having 
ears, hear not, the things | which so nearly concern our tem- 
poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know 
the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and 
that | is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging 
of the future | but by the past. And judging by the past, I 
wish to know | what there has been | in the conduct of the 
British ministry | for the last ten years, to justify those hopes | 
with which gentlemen have been pleased to solaceJi them- 
selves and the house. Is it that insidious§§ smile | with whicb 

* Indelible, that cannot be blotted out. If Illusions, deceptive appearances. 

t Stigma, mark of disgrace. ** Siren, a goddess noted for singing. 

t Prelates, archbishops, or bishops ft Arduous, difficult. 

§ Enormous, very wicked. $t Solace, comfort. 

|[ Preposterous, absurd. §§ Insidious, deceptive. 



60 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

our petition | has been lately received ? Trust it not, sir ; it 
will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be 
betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves | how this gracious re- 
ception of our petition | comports with those warlike prepara- 
tions | which cover our waters and darken our land. Are 
fleets and armies | necessary to a work of love and reconcilia- 
tion ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
that force must be called in | to win back our love ? 

Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These | are the imple- 
ments* of war and subjugation ;f the last arguments j to which 
kings resort. 

Section 2 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martialj array, if its 
purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen as- 
sign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain | any 
enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumu- 
lation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They 
are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They are 
sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, which the 
British ministry | have been so long forging. And what have 
we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, w T e 
have been trying that | for the last ten years. Have we any- 
thing new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. We have held 
the subject up | in every light | of which it is capable ; but it 
has been all in vain. 

Shall we resort to entreaty | and humble supplication! 
What terms shall we find | which have not already been ex- 
hausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves 
longer. Sir, we have done everything | that could be done* 
to avert the storm | which is now coming on. We have pe- 
titioned, we have remonstrated,! we have supplicated, we 
have prostrated ourselves | before the throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition J to arrest the tyrannical hand of the 
ministryandparliament.il Our petitions have been slighted; 

* Implements, instruments. 

t Subjugation, the act of conquering or enslaving. 
t Martial, warlike. 

$ Remonstrate, to urge reasons against, to expostulate. 

|j Parliament, the legislature of Great Britain, composed of the House of Lords and 
the House of C ommoas. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



61 



our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have 
been spurned with contempt | from the foot of the throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate* 
those inestimable privileges | for which we have been so long 
contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- 
gle | in which we have been so long engaged, and which we 
have pledged ourselves never to abandon | until the glorious 
object of our contest | shall be obtained, we must fight; I re- 
peat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the God 
of Hosts, is all that is left us ! 

Section 3. 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with so 
formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger?. 
Will it be next week, or the next year ? Will it be | when we 
are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be sta- 
tioned in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolu- 
tion and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual 
resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the 
delusivef phantomj of hope, until our enemies shall have 
bound us | hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make 
a proper use | of those means | which the God of nature | hath 
placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the 
holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that | which 
we possess* are invincible by any force | which our enemy [ 
can send against us. 

Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a 
just God | who presides§ over the destinies!] of nations, and 
who will raise up friends | to fight our battles for us. The bat- 
tle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant,ir the ac- 
tive, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we are 
base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. 

* Inviolate, uninjured. § Presides over, controls, directs, 

t Delusive, deceptive. || Destinies, fates, 

t Phantom, apparition, ghost. IT Vigilant, watchful. 
6 



62 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard | on the 
plains of Boston. The war is inevitable,* and let it come ! 1 
repeat it, sir, let it come ! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may 
cry peace, peace ! but there is no peace ! The war is actually 
begun ! The next gale | that sweeps from the north | will 
bring to our ears | the clash of resounding arms ! Our breth- 
ren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What 
is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life 
so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of 
chains and slavery. * * * * I know not what course others may 
take ; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 



THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE 
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE D. Webster. 

Section 1. 
Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand 
and my heart | to this vote ! It is true, indeed, that, in the be- 
ginning, we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divin- 
ity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England J has 
driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our 
good | she has obstinately persisted, till independence | is now 
within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is 
ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration ? Is any 
man so weak | as now to hope for a reconciliation with Eng- 
land, which shall leave either safety to the country and its 
liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor ? Are 
not you, sir, who sit in that chair ; is not he, our venerable 
colleague! near you; are not both -^ready the proscribed^ and 
predestined§ objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut 
off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can 
you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws ? 

* Inevitable, unavoidable, 

\ Colleague, partner in office. 

% Proscribed, doomed, condemned. 

$ Predestined, predetermined, determined beforehand. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 63 

Section 2. 
If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or 
give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the measures of 
Parliament, Boston port-bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, 
and consent | that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, 
and our country | and its rights | trodden down in the dust ? 
I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. 
Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation | ever en- 
tered into by men — that plighting,* before God, of our sacred 
honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the 
dangers of war, as well as the political hazardsf of the times, 
we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our 
fortunes and our lives ? 

Section 3. 

I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a 
general conflagration | sweep over the land, or an earthquake 
sink it, than one jot | or tittle | of that plighted faith fall to the 
ground. For myself, having twelve months ago, in this place, 
moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander 
of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for defence of American 
liberty, may my right hand forget its cunning, and my tongue 
cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver | in the 
support I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must 
fight it through. 

Section 4. 

And if the war must go on, why put off longer the declara- 
tion of independence ? That measure will strengthen us. It 
will give us character abroad. The nations will then treat} 
with us, which they never can do, while we acknowledge our- 
selves subjects | in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I main- 
tain that England, herself will sooner treat for peace with us | 
on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing§ 
her acts, || to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us | 
has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will 
be less wounded | by submitting to that course of things | 

* Plighting, pledging. $ Repealing, annulling, making void. 

t Hazards, dangers. || Acts, laws 

% Treat, negotiate, transact national business. 



6*4 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

which now predestines our independence, than by yielding 
the point in controversy | to her rebellious subjects. The for- 
mer she would regard | as the result of fortune ; the latter | 
she could feel j as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why 
then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a 
civil* | to a national war ? And, since we must fight it through, 
why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy aU the benefits ot 
victory, if we gain the victory ? 

Section 5. 

If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. 
The cause | will raise up armies ; the cause | will create navies. 
The people, the people, if we are true to them, will- carry us, 
and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. 
I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know 
the people of these colonies ; and 1 know | that resistance to 
British aggressionf | is deep and settled hi their hearts, and 
cannot be eradicated. Every colony, indeed, has expressed its 
willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the decla- 
ration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead 
of a long and bloody war | for restoration of privileges, for re- 
dress of grievances, for chartered}: immunities,§ held under a 
British king, set before them the glorious object of entire inde- 
pendence, and it will breathe into them anew | the breath of 
life. 

Section 6. 

Read this declaration at the head of the army ; every sword 
will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, 
to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it 
from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love of reli- 
gious liberty | will cling round it, resolved to stand or fall with 
it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them 
hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon ; let 
them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons | fall on the 
field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Con- 
cord — and the very walls | will cry out in its support. 

* Civil war, a war between people of the same country 

t Aggression, acts of violence. 

% Chartered, granted by a king, or legislature. 

% Immunities, privileges. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 65 

Section 7. 
Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see clear- 
ly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. 
We may not live to see the time | when this declaration shall 
be made good. We may die ; die, colonists ; die, slaves ; die, 
it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it 
so. If it be the pleasure of heaven j that my country shall re- 
quire the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready | at 
the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. 
But, while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the 
hope of a country, and that a free country. 

Section 8. 
But, whatever may be our fate, be assured | that this decla- 
ration | will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost 
blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. 
Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness 
of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a 
glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our 
children will honor it. They will celebrate it, with thanksgiv- 
ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its 
annual return | they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, 
not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of 
exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I believe 
the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and 
my whole heart is in it. — AH that I have, and all that I am, 
and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake 
upon it ; and I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive or 
perish, I am for the declaration. It is my living sentiment, 
and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment ; — 

INDEPENDENCE NOW ; and INDEPENDENCE FOR EVER ! 



6* 



66 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. 

America. — C. Phillips, 
Section 1 
The mention of America | has never failed to fill me I with 
the most lively emotion. In my earliest youth, that tender 
season | when impressions, at once the most permanent and 
the most powerful, are likely to be excited, the story of her 
then recent struggle [ raised a throb in every heart | that lov- 
ed liberty, and wrung a reluctant tribute | even from discom- 
fited oppression. I saw her spurning alike the luxuries that 
would enervate,* and the legions .| that would intimidate ;f 
dashing from her lips J the poisoned cup of European servi- 
tude ; and, through all the vicissitudes^ of her protracted§ con- 
flict, displaying a magnanimity|| | that defied misfortune, a 
moderation | that gave new grace to victory. It was the first 
vision of my childhood ; it will descend with me to the grave 
******** 

Section 2. 
Search creation round, where can you find a country | that 
presents so subhme a view, so interesting an anticipation? 
What noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy !1J 
What a wise equalization of every political advantage ! The 
oppressed of all countries, the martyrs** of every creed, || the 
innocent victimsJt of despotic arrogance§§ or superstitious 
frenzy,|||| may there find a refuge ; his industry encouraged, his 
piety respected, his ambition animated ; with no restraint | but 
those laws, which are the same to all, and no distinction but 

* Ener'vate [accented on the second syllable], deprive of strength or vigor, weaken, 

t Intimidate, make fearful, frighten. 

X Vicissitudes, changes. 

§ Protracted, lengthened. 

|| Magnanimity, greatness of mind. 

IT Policy, system of government. 

** Martyrs, those who are put to death for their opinions 

tt Creed, belief. 

XX Despotic, tyrannical, oppressive. 

$§ Arrogance, haughtiness. 

Qli Frenzy, madness 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 67 

that, which his merit may originate. Who can deny | that the 
existence of such a country j presents a subject for human con- 
gratulation ! Who can deny, that its gigantic advancement | 
offers a field for the most rational conjecture ! At the end of 
the next century,* if she proceeds [ as she seems to promise, 
what a wondrous spectacle may she not exhibit ! Who shall 
say j for what purpose | a mysterious Providence may not 
have designed her ! Who shall say | that when, in its follies 
or its crimes, the old world may have interred! all the pride of 
its power, and all the pomp of its civilisation, human nature | 
may not find its destined renovation J in the new ' 

Section 3. 
For myself, I have no doubt of it. I have not the least 
doubt, that when our temples and our trophies | shall have 
mouldered into dust — when the glories of our name | shall 
be but the legend§ of tradition, and the light of our achieve- 
ments | only live in song, philosophy will rise again | in the 
sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle | at the urn of her 
Washington. Is this the vision of a romantic fancy? Is it 
even improbable? Is it half so improbable as the events, 
which j for the last twenty years | have rolled like successive || 
tides | over the surface of the European world, each erasing!! 
the impression | that preceded it ? 

Thousands upon thousands, Sir, I know there are, who will 
consider this supposition | as wild and whimsical; but they 
have dwelt | with little reflection | upon the records of the 
past. They have but ill-observed the never-ceasing progress 
of national rise | and national ruin. They form their judgment 
| on the deceitful stability of the present hour, never consid- 
ering the innumerable monarchies and republics, in former 
days, apparently as permanent, their very existence | become 
now the subjects of speculation** — I had almost said, of scep- 
ticism, ft 

Section 4. 

I appeal to History ! Tell me, thou reverend chroniclerit of 

• Century, a hundred years. IT Erasing, blotting out. 

t Interred, buried. ** Speculation, consideration. 

X Renovation, renewal. ft Scepticism, doubt. 

§ Legend, fable. \% Chronicler, historian. 
i Successive, following in order 



DO ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

the grave, can all the illusions of ambition realized, can all the 
wealth of an universal commerce, can all the achievements of 
successful heroism, or all the establishments of this world's 
wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? 
Alas ! Troy thought so once ; yet the land of Priam lives only 
in song ! Thebes thought so once, yet her hundred gates 
have crumbled, and her very tombs | are but as the dust | they 
were vainly intended to commemorate. So thought Palmyra 
— where is she ? So thought the countries of Demosthenes 
and the Spartan, yet Leonidas | is trampled | by the timid 
slave, and Athens insulted | by the servile, mindless,* and 
enervatef Ottoman. In his hurried march Time has but look- 
ed J at their imagined immortality! — and all their vanities, from 
the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very 
impression of his footsteps ! The days of their glory | are as 
if they had never been ; and the island, that was then a speck, 
rude and neglected | in the barren ocean, now rivals the 
ubiquity§ of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame 
of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the in- 
spiration of their bards ! 

Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, 
proud and potent | as she appears, may not one day be what 
Athens is, and the young America | yet soar to be what Athens 

WAS? 



FORTIETH LESSON. 

rolla's address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. 

Section 1. 
My brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, and 
my fame ! — can Rolla's words add vigor j to the virtuous ener- 
gies | which inspire your hearts ? — No ! — You have judged as 
I have, the foulness of the crafty plea | by which these bold 
invaders | would delude you. Your generous spirit | has com- 
pared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can 
animate their minds and ours. 

* Mindless, heedless, ignorant. X Immortality, endless existence, 

t Enervate, powerless. § Ubiquity, existence everywhere. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION Di* 

They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plun- 
der, and extended rule ; — we, for our country, our altars,* and 
our homes. They follow an adventurer | whom they fear, and 
obey a power | which they hate : — we serve a monarch whom 
we love — a God whom we adore. Where'er they move in 
anger, desolation tracks their progress ! Where'er they pause 
in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. 

Section 2. 
They boast [ they come but to improve our state, enlarge our 
thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error ! — yes : — they will 
give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves j 
the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their 
protection — Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs — 
covering and devouring them ! They call on us | to barter all 
the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate 
chance of something better | which they promise. Be our 
plain answer this : — The throne we honor | is the people's 
choice — the laws we reverence j are our brave fathers' legacyf 
— the faith we follow J teaches us to live in bonds of charity | 
with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss | beyond the 
grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, too, we seek no 
change ; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us 



FORTY-FIRST LESSON. 

WASHINGTON. C, PhUUpS, 

Section 1. 
Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet,| which, though 
it sprang in America, is no exotic. § Virtue planted it, and it is 
naturalized everywhere. I see you anticipate me — I see you 
concur with me, that it matters very little what spot may be 
the birth-place of such a man as Washington. No people can 
claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon|| of Provi- 
dence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and his resi- 

* Altar, a place for sacrifice or worship. $ Exotic, a foreign plant. 

\ Legacy, what is left by will. I| Boon, a gift, 

x Chaplet, a wreath of flowers. 



70 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

deuce creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and 
the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in 
which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the 
earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was 
the climate that it cleared! how bright, in the brow of the 
firmament, was the planet which it revealed to us ! 

Section 2. 

In the production of Washington, it does really appear | as if 
Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all 
the virtues of the ancient world | were but so many studies pre- 
paratory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances, no 
doubt there were, splendid exemplifications* of some singular 
qualification : Csesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Han- 
nibal was patient; but it was reserved for Washington | to 
blend them all in one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the 
Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, the 
pride of every model, and the perfection of every master. 

As a general, he marshalled the peasantf into a veteran,^ 
and supplied by discipline | the absence of experience ; as a 
statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet§ J into the most 
comprehensive system of general advantage ; and such was 
the wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, 
that, to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the 
character of the sage !|| A conqueror, he was untainted with 
the crime of blood; a revolutionist, he was free from any 
stain of treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and 
his country called him to the command. 

Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory re- 
turned it. If he had paused here, history might have doubted 
| what station to assign him : whether at the head of her citi- 
zens or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last 
glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation 

Section 3. 
Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- 

* Exemplifications, illustrations by examples. § Cabinet, a council room, 
t Peasant, one who labors in the country. |j Sage, a wise man 

t Veteran, an old soldier. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 71 

sphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement of 
domestic life | to the adoration of a land he might be almost 
said to have created ! 

" How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page, 
Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage? 
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less than all thou hast forborne to be !" 

Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused of par- 
tiality | in his estimate of America. Happy, proud America ! 
The lightnings of heaven | yielded to your philosophy ! The 
temptations of earth | could not seduce your patriotism. 



FORTY-SECOND LESSON. 

SCOTLAND.— Fldgg. 
Section 1. 
Statesmen — scholars — divines — heroes and poets — do you 
want exemplars* worthy of study and imitation ? Where will 
you find them brighter than in Scotland ? Where can you find 
them purer than in Scotland ? Here no Solon, indulging imagi- 
nation, has pictured the perfectibility! of man. No Lycurgus, 
viewing him through the medium of human frailty alone, has left 
for his government an iron code J graven on eternal adamant. § 
No Plato, dreaming in the luxurious gardens of the Academy, 
has fancied what he should be, and bequeathed a republic of 
love. But sages, knowing their weakness, have appealed to 
his understanding, cherished his virtues, and chastised his 
vices. 

Friends of learning ! would you do homage | at the shrine o\ 
literature ? Would you visit her clearest founts ? — Go to Scot- 
land. Are you philosophers, seeking to explore the hidden 
mysteries of mind ? — Bend to the genius of Stewart ! Student, 
merchant, or mechanic, do you seek usefulness ? — Consult the 
pages of Black and of Adam Smith. Grave barrister ! would 
you know the law — the true, the sole expression of the people's 
will ? — There stands the mighty Mansfield ! 

• Exemplars, patterns, models. % Code, a system of laws, 

t Perfectibility, capacity for becoming perfect. $ Adamant, a very hard 



72 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Section 2. 

Servants of Him, whose name is above every other name, 
and not to be mentioned — recur to days | that are past: to 
days | that can never be blotted from the history of the church. 
Visit the mountains of Scotland ; contemplate the stern Came 
ronian, the rigid covenanter, the enduring puritan. Follow 
them to their burrows | beneath the earth ; to their dark, bleak 
caverns in the rocks. See them hunted like beasts of prey. 
See them emaciated,* worn with disease, clung with famine — 
yet laboring | with supernatural! zeal — in feeding the hungry 
| with that bread j which gives life for ever more. Go view 
them, and when you preach faith, hope, charity, fortitude and 
long-suffering — forget them not; the meek, the bold, the patient, 
gallant Puritans of Scotland. 

Land of the mountain, the torrent and dale !— Do we look 
for high examples | of noble daring ? Where shall we find 
them brighter than in Scotland ? From the " bonny} highland 
heather"§ of her lofty summits, to the modest lily of the vale, not 
a flower | but has blushed with patriot blood. 

Section 3. 
From the proud foaming crest of Sol way, to the calm polish- 
ed breast of Loch Katrine, not a river or lake but has swelled 
with the life-tide of freemen ! Would you witness greatness ? 
— Contemplate a Wallace and a Bruce. They fought not for 
honors, for party, for conquest. 'Twas for their country 
and their country's good ; religion, liberty and law. Would 
you ask for chivalry ? — that high and delicate sense of honor, 
which deems a stain upon one's country — as individual dis 
grace ; that moral courage | which measures danger, and 
meets it against known odds ; that patriot valor, which would 
rather repose [ on a death-bed of laurels | than flourish in wealth 
and power | under the night-shade of despotism ? — Citizen 
soldier, turn to Lochiel ; " proud bird of the mountain !" Though 
pierced with the usurper's|| arrow, his plumage still shines ( 

* Emaciated, reduced in flesh, lean. 

t Supernatural, beinp beyond the laws of nature, miraculous. 
, % Bonny, beautiful. 
$ Heather, a plant, bearing a beautiful flower. 
j| Usurper, one who takes possession wrongfully 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 73 

through the cloud of oppression, lighting to honor all | who 
aobly dare to " do or die." 

Where then can we better look | for all that is worthy of 
honest ambition, than to Scotland ? 



FORTY-THIRD LESSON. 

THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. Burke. 

Section 1. 

It is now sixteen or seventeen years J since I saw the Queen 
of France, then the Dauphiness,* at Versailles; and surely 
never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a 
more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, de- 
corating and cheering the elevated sphere | she just began to 
move in — glittering like the morning star ; full of life, and splen- 
dor, and joy. 

Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, to 
contemplate | without emotion that elevation | and that fall ! 

Little did I dream | that when she added titles of veneration 
| to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she 
should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidotef against dis- 
grace | concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream that I should 
have lived to see such disasters heaped upon her — in a nation 
of gallant men ; in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers. % 
I thought ten thousand swords | must have leaped from their 
scabbards, to avenge even a look | that threatened her with 
insult. 

Section 2. 

But the age of chivalry§ J is gone. That of sophisters,|| eco- 
nomists, and calculators, has succeeded ; and the glory of Eu- 
rope j is extinguished for ever. Never, never more, shall we 
behold that generous loyaltyir to rank and sex, that proud sub- 

* Dauphiness, a female relative of the King of France, who, by law. is entitled to 
succeed him or become a queen after his death, 
f Antidote, remedy. 

% Cavaliers, knights, gallant and noble men. 
$ Chivalry, knighthood, the dignity of a knight. 
D Sophistei s, artful, deceptive reasoners. 

U Loyalty, fidelity, regard, usually it signifies fidelity to the king. 
7 



74 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

mission, that cL'gnified obedience, that subordination of fhe 
heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of aii 
exalted freedom. 

The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the 
nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise — is gone ! It 
is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, 
which felt a stain like a wound; which inspired courage, 
whilst it mitigated ferocity ; which ennobled whatever it touch- 
ed; and under which vice itself | lost half its evil, by losing all 
its grossness. 



FORTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

NATIONAL GLORY. Clay, 

Section 1. 

We are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have 
shown | that we have lost nothing | in rights, territory, 01 
honor; nothing | for which we ought to have contended, ac 
cording to the principles of the gentlemen J on the other side, 
or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the 
war ? Let any man | look at the degraded condition of this 
country | before the war, the scorn of the universe, the con- 
tempt of ourselves, and tell me | if we have gained nothing by 
the war. What is our present situation ? Respectability and 
character abroad, security and confidence at home. If we 
have not obtained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of 
retribution, our character and constitution | are placed on a 
solid basis,* never to be shaken. 

The glory | acquired by our gallant tars, by our Jacksons 
and our Browns on the land — is that nothing ? True, we had 
our vicissitudes: there were humiliating events | which the 
patriot cannot review | without deep regret — but the great ac- 
count, when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in 
our favor. Is there a man | who would obliterate j from the 
proud pages of our history | the brilliant achievements of Jack- 
eon, Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes | on land and sea, 
whom I cannot enumerate ? Is there a man | who could not 

* Basis foundation 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 75 

desire a participation | in the national glory acquired by the 
war ? Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may 
be condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine 
patriot. 

Section 2. 

What do I mean | by national glory ? Glory such as Hull 
Jackson, and Perry | have acquired. And are gentlemen in- 
sensible to their deeds — to the value of them | in animating the 
country | in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Ther- 
mopylae | preserve Greece but once ? Whilst the Mississippi | 
continues to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the 
Alleghanies | to her Delta and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth 
of January j shall be remembered, and the glory of that day [ 
shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn 
freemen | in driving the presumptuous invader | from our 
country's soil. 

Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility* to feelings inspir- 
ed | by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, 
does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, 
afford them no pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice to the 
country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has 
its beneficial influence. A nation's character | is the sum of its 
splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony,! the 
nation's inheritance. They awe foreign powers — they arouse 
and animate our own people. I love true glory. It is this sen- 
timent | which ought to be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, 
and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will finally conduct 
this nation | to that height | to which God | and nature | have 
destined it. 

FORTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

THE NECESSITY OF UNION. Webster. 

Section 1. 
I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept | steadily 
in view | the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and 
the preservation of our federal union. J It is to that union | we 

* Insensibility, want of feeling, indifference. 

f Patrimony, an estate derived from a father or other ancestor. 

% Federal union, [here] signifies the union of the United States. 



76 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

owe our safety at heme, and our consideration and dignity 
abroad. It is to that union | that we are chiefly indebted | for 
whatever makes us most proud of our country. That union 
we reached, only by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe 
school of adversity. It had its origin | in the necessities of 
disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. 
Under its benign* influences, these great interests | immediate- 
ly awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth | with newness 
of life. Every year of its duration | has teemed with fresh 
proofs of its utility | and its blessings; and | although our ter- 
ritory | has stretched out, wider and wider, and our population 
spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection, 
or its benefits. It has been to us all | a copious fountain of 
national, social, and personal happiness. 

I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the union, to 
see what might lie hidden | in the dark recess behind. I have 
not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the 
bonds | that unite us together | shall be broken asunder. I 
have not accustomed myself | to hang over the precipice of 
disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom 
the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a 
safe counsellor | in the affairs of this government, whose 
thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the 
Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be 
the condition of the people | when it shall be broken up and 
destroyed 

Section 2. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying 
prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Be- 
yond that J I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in 
my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant, that 
on my vision never may be opened | what lies behind. When 
my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in 
heaven, may I not see him shining | on the broken and dis- 
honored fragments | of a once glorious union ; on states dis- 
severed,! discordant, belligerent ;| on a land rent with civil§ 
feuds, || or drenched, it may be, in fraternalir blood ! Let their 

* Benign, kind, generous. § Civil, being in our own country. 

] Dissevered, divided. \\ Feuds, quarrels, contentions. 

; Belligerent, carrying on war. f Fraternal, of brothers. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 7? 

last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous* 
ensignf of the republic, now known and honored | throughont 
the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies stream- 
ing | in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor 
a single star obscured — bearing | for its motto, no such miser- 
able interrogatory as — What is all this worth? Nor those 
other words of delusion and folly — liberty first, and union 
afterwards, but everywhere, spread all over in characters of 
living light, blazing on all its ample folds as they float over 
the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole 
heavens, that other sentiment dear to every true American 
heart — liberty and union, now and for ever, one and insepa- 
rable !f 



FORTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF PRESERVING OUR FORM OF GOVERN- 
MENT. — Webster. 
Section 1 
Sir, in our endeavors to maintain our existing forms of gov- 
ernment, we are acting j not for ourselves alone, but for the 
great cause of constitutional liberty | all over the globe. We 
are trustees, holding a sacred treasure, in which all the lovers 
of freedom have a stake. Not only in revolutionized France, 
where there are no longer subjects, where the monarch can no 
longer say, he is the state ; not only in reformed England, 
where our principles, our institutions, our practice of free gov- 
ernment | are now daily quoted and commended ; but in the 
depths of Germany, and among the desolate fields, and the 
still smoking ashes of Poland, prayers are uttered | for the pre- 
servation of our union | and happiness. We are surrounded, 
sir, by a cloud of witnesses. The gaze of the sons of liberty, 
everywhere, is upon us, anxiously, intently, upon us. It may 
see us fall | in the struggle for our constitution | and govern 
ment, but heaven forbid | that it should see us recreant. 

* Gorgeous, splendid 1 Inseparable, that cannot be separated 

t Ensign, flag 



78 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Section 2. 
At least, sir, let the star of Massachusetts be the last | which 
shall be seen to fall from heaven, and to plunge | into the utter 
darkness of disunion. Let her shrink back, let her hold others 
back, if she can ; at any rate | let her keep herself back from 
this gulf, full, at once, of fire and | of blackness ; yes, sir, as far 
as human foresight can scan, or human imagination fathom, 
full of the fire and the blood of civil war, and of the thick 
darkness | of general political disgrace, ignominy* and ruin. 
Though the worst happen | that can happen, and though we 
be not able to prevent the catastrophe, f yet, let her maintain 
her own integrity, her own high honor, her own unwavering 
fidelity, so that | with respect and decency, though with a 
broken and a bleeding heart, she may pay the last tribute | to 
a glorious, departed, free constitution. 



FORTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

THE MONUMENT ON BUNKER.' S HILL. — Webster. 

Section 1. 
We know | that the record of illustrious actions | is most 
safely deposited | in the universal remembrance | of mankind 
We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not 
only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad 
surface | could still contain but part of that, which, in an age 
of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and 
which history charges herself | with making known to all 
future times. We know | that no inscription, on entablatures^ 
| less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the 
events | we commemorate | where it has not already gone ; 
and that no structure | which shall not outlive the duration of 
letters | and knowledge amongmen, can prolong the memorial. § 
But our object is, by this edifice, to show our deep sense of the 
value | and importance of the achievements | of our ances- 

* Ignominy, disgrace, infamy. 

\ Catastrophe, calamity, disaster. 

t Entablature, a part of a column. 

§ Memorial, something to preserve the remembrance 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 79 

tors ; and | by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to 
keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a similar regard, to 
the principles of the revolution. Human beings are composed 
not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment ; 
and that is neither wasted nor misapplied, which is appro- 
priated to the purpose j of giving right direction to sentiments, 
and opening proper springs of feeling | in the heart. 

Section 2. 

Let it not be supposed | that our object is to perpetuate 
national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It 
is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work | to the 
spirit of national independence, and we wish | that the light of 
peace | may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our 
conviction | of the unmeasured benefit | which has been con- 
ferred on our land, and of the happy influences, which have 
been produced, by the same events, on the general interests 
of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which 
must be for ever dear | to us, and our posterity. We wish | 
that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eyes hither, 
may behold | that the place is not undistinguished | where the 
first great battle of the revolution | was fought. We wish, 
that this structure | may proclaim the magnitude and import- 
ance of that event | to every class and every age. We wish, 
that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection | from 
maternal lips, and that weary and withered age | may behold 
it, and be solaced by the recollections | which it suggests. We 
wish, that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst 
of its toil. We wish, that, in those days of disaster, which, as 
they come upon all nations, must be expected to come on us 
also, desponding patriotism | may turn its eyes hither, and be 
assured | that the foundations of our national power | still 
stand strong. We wish, that this column, rising towards 
heaven | among the pointed spires of so many temples dedi- 
cated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a 
pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish finally, 
that the last object f on the sight of him | who leaves his 
native shore, and the first to gladden him | who revisits it, 
may be something | which shall remind him | of the liberty 



80 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

and glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in nis 
coming; let the earliest light of morning gild it, and parting 
<?ay | linger and play upon its summit. 



FORTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. Everett. 

Section 1. 
Some organization and preparation | had been made ; but 
from the nature of the case, with scarce any effect j on the 
events of that day. It may be donbted, whether there was an 
efficient* order given | the whole day | to any body of men | as 
large as a regiment. It was the people, in their first capacity, 
as citizens and as freemen, starting from their beds at midnight, 
from their firesides | and their fields, to take their own cause | in 
their own hands. Such a spectacle is the height of the moral sub- 
lime ; when the want of everything | is fully made up | by the 
spirit of the cause ; and the soul within | stands hi place of disci- 
pline, organization, resources. In the prodigious efforts of a vete- 
ran army, beneath the dazzling splendor of their array, there is 
something revolting | to the reflecting mind. The ranks are 
filled with the desperate, the mercenary, the depraved ; and 
iron slavery, by the name of subordination | merges the free 
will | of one hundred thousand men | in the unqualified despot- 
ism of one ; the humanity, mercy, and remorse | which scarce 
ever desert the individual bosom, are sounds without a mean- 
ing | to that fearful, ravenous, irrational monster of prey, a 
mercenary! army. 

Section 2. 

It is hard to say [ who are most to be commiserated,! the 
wretched people | on whom it is let loose, or the still more 
wretched people whose substance has been sucked out to 
nourish it | into strength and fury. But | in the efforts of the 
people, of the people struggling for their rights, moving, not in 
organized, disciplined masses, but in their spontaneous§ ac- 
tion, man for man, and heart for heart, — though I like not wai 

* Efficient, producing effect. % Commiserated, pitied. 

t Mercenary, hired § Spontaneous, voluntary, free. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 81 

f nor any of its works, — there is something g.orious. They 
can then move forward without orders, act together without 
combination, and brave the flaming lines of battle, without in- 
trenchments* to cover, or walls to shield them. No dissolute 
camp | has worn off | from the feelings of the youthful soldier 

| the freshness of that home, where his mother and his sisters 
sit waiting, with tearful eyes and aching hearts, to hear good 
news from the wars ; no long service in the ranks of the con- 
queror | has turned the veteran's heart into marble ; their valor 
springs | not from recklessness, from habit, from indifference 
to the preservation of a life, knit by no pledges to the life of 
others ; but in the strength | and spirit of the cause alone, they 
act, they contend, they bleed. In this they conquer. The 
people | always conquer. They always must conquer. 

Section 3. 
Armies | may be defeated ; kings | may be overthrown, and 
new dynasties! | imposed by foreign arms | on an ignorant and 
slavish race, that care not | in what language | the covenant of 
their subjection runs, nor in whose name | the deed of their 
barter | and sale is made out. But the people | never invade ; 
and when they rise | against the invader, are never subdued. 
If they are driven from the plains, they fly to the mountains. 
Steep rocks and everlasting hills | are their castles ; the tangled, 
pathless thicket | their palisado;f and nature, — God, — is their 
ally. Now | he overwhelms the host of their enemies | beneath 
his drifting mountains of sand ; now | he buries them beneath 
an atmosphere of falling snows ; he lets loose his tempests | 
on their fleets; he puts a folly into their councils, a madness 
into the hearts of their leaders; and he never gave, and never 
will give, a full and final triumph over a virtuous, gallant peo- 
ple, resolved to be free. 

* Intrenckments, fortifications made with trenches or ditches, 
t Dynasties, governments. 
J Palisado, fortification 



82 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FORTY-NINTH LESSON. 

THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. Hdl/TieS, 

Section 1. 
It has been usual, on occasions like the present, to give a 
history of the wrongs endured by our fathers. But, my friends, 
we have prouder, and more ennobling recollections, connected 
with our revolution. They are to be found in the spirit display- 
ed by our fathers, when all their petitions had been slighted, 
their remonstrances despised, and then appeals to the generous 
sympathies of their brethren | utterly disregarded. Yes, my 
friends, theirs was that pure and lofty spirit of devoted patriot- 
ism, which never quailed beneath oppression, which braved 
all dangers, trampled upon difficulties, and in " the times which 
tried men's souls," taught them to be faithful to then principles, 
and to their country — true ; and which induced them | hi the 
very spirit of that Brutus (whose mantle has fallen, in our own 
day, upon the shoulders of one so worthy to wear it) to swear 
on the altar of liberty — to give themselves up wholly j to their 
country. There is one characteristic, however, of the Ameri- 
can revolution, which, constituting, as it does, its living princi- 
ple, its proud distinction, and its crowning glory — cannot be 
passed over in silence. It is this — that our revolution had its 
origin, not so much in the weight of actual oppression, as in 
the great principle — the sacred duty, of resistance to the exer 
cise of unauthorized power 

Section 2. 
Other nations have been driven to rebellion | by the iron 
hand of despotism, the insupportable weight of oppression, 
which leaving men nothing worth living for, has taken away 
the fear of death itself, and caused them to rush | upon the 
spears of their enemies, or to break their chains upon the heads 
of their oppressors. But it was a tax of three-pence a pound 
upon tea, imposed without right, which was considered by our 
ancestors as a burden too grievous to be borne. And why ? 
Because they were men "who felt oppression's lightest finger 
as a mountain weight," and, in the fine language of that just 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 83 

xnd ^eautrful tribute paid to their character by one, " whose 
praises will wear well" — they " judged of the grievance, by the 
badness of the principle, they augured* misgovernment at a dis- 
tance, and snuffed the approach of tyranny in every tainted 
breeze" — because they were men, who, in the darkest hour, 
could say to their oppressors, " we have counted the cost, and 
find nothing so deplorable as voluntary slavery," and who w T ere 
ready to exclaim with the orator of Virginia, " give me liberty 
or give me death." Theirs was the same spirit which inspired 
the immortal Hampden to resist, at the peril of his life, the im- 
position of ship-money, not because, as remarked by Burke, 
" the payment of twenty shillings would have ruined his for- 
tune, but because the payment of half twenty shillings, on the 
principle on which it was demanded, would have made him a 
slave." It was the spirit of liberty which still abides on the 
earth, and whose home is in the bosoms of the brave — which 
but yesterday, in " beautiful France," restored their violated 
charter — which even now burns brightly on the towers of Bel- 
gium, and has rescued Poland from the tyrant's grasp — making 
their sons, aye, and their daughters too, the wonder and the ad- 
miration of the world, the pride and glory of the human race ! 



FIFTIETH LESSON. 

APPEAL IN BEHALF OF GREECE.— -LdCey. 
Section 1. 
The calamities of unhappy Greece | are not only great, but 
without a parallel. Collect, my brethren, for a moment, the 
powers of your fancy, and fix them on that afflicted country. 
What a sad and revolting spectacle | stands before you! The 
warrior repairs to the field of battle, not like his adversary, hi 
"the pride and pomp and circumstance of glorious war" — but 
in the deep miseries j of poverty and consuming care : the ma 
tron j and her lovely daughter | are torn from the sanctuary* 01 
their home, driven into hopeless captivity, or forced into lonely 
deserts | to subsist on acorns, and seek a shelter from the storm, 

* Augured, foretold, foresaw t Sanctuary, a sacred place. 



84 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



ill the caverns of the earth: the lisping infant, clinging with 
convulsive grasp | to its flying mother, is overtaken by the 
savage Turk, and slaughtered | without remorse; a country 
once verdant 'with vines, and olives, and generous crops, is 
blasted by the breath of war, and left " without agriculture, 
without commerce, and without arts :" the traces of a desolat- 
ing foe | are marked, not only on the site of lamented Scio, on 
the ramparts of Ipsara, Missolonghi, and the Acropolis ; but in 
every city, and village, and hamlet, and portion | of this devot- 
ed country. 

Section 2. 

The winds j which sweep along the fields, once blooming 
with groves, sacred to the Muses, and over the ruins of temples 
erected for the arts and sciences, bear | on their wings | the 
sighs of expiring widows, and moans of vanquished heroes, 
and the beseechings of starving infants ! And do you not, in 
the view of such a picture, yield to pity ? Oh, can there be a 
heart so hard, as to remain unmoved | by scenes so sad as 
these ? No, exclaims the philanthropist : all — all I have, is at 
the service of this afflicted country ! 

And will not the scholar | respond in the same notes ? I am 
sure he will. There is not a living soul, who ever revelled on* 
the creations of inspired fancy, or hung enchanted | upon the 
strains of oratory, or followed | with swelling and delicious ad- 
miration | the flowing periods of eloquence, or beheld the ma- 
gic transformation of the chisel, or the enrapturing beauties of 
the pencil, who does not feel himself indebted | to unhappy 
Greece. Oh Greece ! Venerated and beloved Greece ! Often 
have we, kneeling at thy shrine, rendered the homage of ad- 
miration j to thy transcendant genius ! It was thy maternal 
bosom | that nourished him, whose immortal song | has been 
the wonder of the world; — him, whose voice shook the throne 
of Macedon, controlled the passions of fierce democracy, and 
perpetuated | to the present moment | the power and soul of 
eloquence ; — him | who bodied forth forms of beauty | from the 
rugged rock, and gave them, as it were, sentiment and feeling; 
— him | whose moral science the virtuous still revere : — " Foi 
her seat is the bosom of God, and her voice the harmony of the 
world " 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 85 

Section 3. 
Say, then, ye men of letters— shall Greece be given up ? — 
Shall the Turk still pollute the soil sanctified by the brightest 
genius ? desecrate the groves, the temples, and the porticoes, 
from which have issued living streams that have often laved 
and refreshed your souls ? extinguish the ethereal* fire which 
quickened the mighty minds of Burke, and Chatham, and 
Adams, and Henry? Oh, ye who boast of refined and ele- 
vated minds, prove, I beseech you, the reality of your preten- 
sions by contributing to the redemption of a country, from 
whose brilliant genius you have derived your brightest orna- 
ments. 

***** 

Oh, ye friends of liberty ! ye | wno have been nursed in the 
lap of freedom, and cradled in the storms of emancipation,! 
will you not contribute | to the release of such a people? Will 
you look on, without concern, and see the sons of Sparta, of 
Athens, of Thermopylae, crushed beneath the sceptre of the 
Porte ? Will you make no effort | for their redemption ? Shall 
they still bend their neck | to the cruel yoke | for the want of 
your assistance ? Oh, if this be the fact, the time will come, 
when you will repent of your present apathy. When the sighs 
of expiring hope, the clank of chains binding the Greeks j to 
the car of tyranny, shall be wafted | over the wide wastes of 
the Atlantic, and sink into your reluctant ears, you will lament, 
(but, alas ! too late) the inglorious supinenesst | which had led 
to this result. If the cause of Greece be lost, the cause of 
liberty | will suffer. In permitting this event, you will descend 
| from your high position, and commence a preparation | for 
servitude and chains. When the Greek republic | shall have 
ceased its struggles, and sunk into the iron grasp of Moslem 
tyranny, the current of civil liberty | will not improbably 
change its course, and the chill of death, striking to the heart 
of freedom, commence the dissolution | of our own govern* 
ment. 

* Ethereal, airy, heavenly. % Supineness, indolence 

t Emancipation, act of setting free 



86 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

FIFTY-FIRST LESSON. 
ANCIENT ORATORY. FofdlJCe. 

It ■will not, I think, be pretended, that any of our public 
speakers | have often occasion to address more sagacious, 
learned, or polite assemblies, than those | which w r ere com- 
posed of the Roman senate, or the Athenian people, hi their 
most enlightened times. But it is w T ell known | what great 
stress the most celebrated orators of those times | laid on 
action ; how exceedingly imperfect they reckoned eloquence | 
without it, and what wonders they performed | with its assist' 
ance ; performed upon the greatest, firmest, most sensible, and 
most elegant spirits | the world ever saw. I transport myself 
in imagination | to old Athens. I mingle with the popular 
assembly, I behold the lightning, I listen to the thunder of 
Demosthenes. I feel my blood thrilled, I see the auditory lost 
and shaken, like some deep forest | by a mighty storm. I am 
filled with wonder at such marvellous effects. I am hurried 
almost out of myself. In a little while, I endeavor to be more 
collected. Then I consider the orator's address. I find the 
whole inexpressible. But nothing strikes me more | than his 
action. I perceive the various passions | he would inspire, 
rising in him by turns, and working from the depth of his 
frame. Now he glows j with the love of the public ; now he 
flames with indignation | at its enemies ; then he swells with 
disdain, of its false, indolent, or interested friends, anon he 
melts with grief | for its misfortunes ; and now he turns pale | 
■with fear of yet greater ones. Every feature, nerve, and cir- 
cumstance about him is intensely animated ; each almost 
seems | as if it would speak. I discern his inmost soul, I see 
it as only clad in some thm, transparent vehicle. It is all on 
fire. I wonder no longer j at the effects of such eloquence. 
[ only wonder at their causes 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 87 



FIFTY-SECOND LESSON.- 

SPEECH DENYING THE RIGHT OF PARLIAMENT TO ENACT 
A LAW TO UNITE IRELAND AND ENGLAND. Phmket. 

Section 1. 
I, in the most express terms, deny the competency of par- 
liament to do this act. I warn yon, do not dare to lay your 
hand on the constitution — I tell you that if, circumstanced as 
you are, you pass this act, it will be a nullity, and that no man 
in Ireland | will be bound to obey it. I make the assertion 
deliberately — I repeat it, and I call on any man who hears me, 
to take down my words ; — you have not been elected | for this 
purpose — you are appointed to make laws | and not legisla- 
tures — you are appointed to act | under the constitution, not 
to alter it — you are appointed to exercise the functions of legis- 
lators, and not to transfer them — and if you do so, your act is 
a dissolution of the government — you resolve society into its 
original elements, and no man in the land | is bound to obey 
you. 

Yourselves you may extinguish, but parliament | you cannot 
extinguish — it is enthroned | in the hearts of the people — it is 
enshrined | in the sanctuary of the constitution — it is immortal 

| as the island | which it protects ; as well might the frantic 
suicide hope | that the act | which destroys his miserable body 

| should extinguish his eternal soul. Again, I therefore warn 
you, do not dare to lay your hands on the constitution; it is 
above your power. 

Section 2. 

Sir, I do not say that the parliament | and the people, by 
mutual consent and co-operation, may not change the form of 
the constitution. 

But thank God, the people have manifested no such wish ; 
so far as they have spoken, their voice is decidedly | against 
this daring innovation. You know | that no voice has been 
uttered in its favor, and you cannot be infatuated enough | to 
take confidence from the silence J which prevails in some parts 
of the kingdom ; if you know how to appreciate* that silence I 

* Appreciate, value 



88 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

it is more formidable | than the most clamorous opposition- 
you may be rived and shivered by the lightning | before you 
hear the peal of the thunder ! But, sir, we are told | we should 
discuss this question | with calmness and composure. I am 
called on to surrender my birthright and my honor, and I am 
told I should be calm, composed. 

Section 3. 
National pride ! Independence of our country ! These, we 
are told by the minister, are only vulgar topics fitted for the 
meridian of the mob, but unworthy to be mentioned | in such 
an enlightened assembly as this ; they are trinkets | and gew- 
gaws fit to catch the fancy of childish and unthinking people | 
like you, sir, or like your predecessor in that chair, but utterly 
unworthy of the consideration of this house, or of the matured 
understanding of the noble lord | who condescends to instruct 
it ! * * We see a Perry re-ascending J from the tomb and 
raising his awful voice | to warn us | against the surrender of 
our freedom, and we see | that the proud and virtuous feelings 
| which warmed the breast of that aged and venerable man, 
are only calculated to excite the contempt | of this young 
philosopher, who has been transplanted | from the nursery to 
the cabinet, to outrage the feelings } and understanding of the 
country. 



FIFTY-THIRD LESSON. 

OBSTACLES TO THE EXTINCTION OF WAR. Chalmers. 

Section 1. 
The first great obstacle | to the extinction of war, is, the way 
in which the heart of man | is carried off from its barbarities | 
and its horrors, by the splendor of its deceitful accompani- 
ments. There is a feeling of the sublime | in contemplating 
the shock of armies, just as there is | in contemplating the 
devouring energy of a tempest ; and this so elevates and en- 
grosses the whole man, that his eye is blind I to the tears of 
bereaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan oi 
the dying, and the shriek of their desolated families 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 89 

Section 2 
There is a gracefulness | in the picture of a youthful warrior 

| burning for distinction on the field, and lured by this gene- 
rous aspiration | to the deepest of the animated throng, where, 
in the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valor | struggle 
for a remembrance and a name ; and this side of the picture | 
is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as to disguise | 
from our view | the mangled carcasses of the fallen, and the 
writhing agonies of the hundreds and the hundreds more | 
who have been laid on the cold ground, and left to languish | 
and to die. 

There no eye pities them. No sister is there | to weep over 
them. There no gentle hand | is present to ease the dying 
posture, or bind up the wounds, which, in the maddening fury 
of the combat, had been given and received | by the children 
of one common father. There death spreads its pale ensigns 

| over every countenance, and when night comes on, and 
darkness gathers around them, how many a despairing wretch 

j must take up with the bloody field | as the untented bed of 
his last sufferings, without one friend to bear the message of 
tenderness | to his distant home, without one companion to 
close his eyes ! 

Section 3. 

On every side of me | I see causes at work, which go to 
spread a most delusive coloring over war, to remove its shock- 
ing barbarities | to the background of our contemplations alto- 
gether. I see it in the history | which tells me of the superb 
appearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their successive 
charges. I see it in the poetry | which lends the magic of its 
numbers | to the narrative* of blood, and transports its many 
admirers, as, by its images, and its figures, and its nodding 
plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherousf embellishments:}; 
over a scene of legalized slaughter. 

I see it in the music | which represents the progress of the 
battle ; and where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of 
nreparation, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing- 

* Narrative, recital, story. t Embellishments, ornaments. 

T Treacherous. Ruthless, false. 
8' 



90 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

room I are seen to bend | over the sentimental entertainment , 
nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh | to interrupt the 
death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the 
wounded men | as they fade away upon the ear, and sink into 
lifeless silence. 

Section 4. 
All, all goes to prove | what strange and balf-sighted crea- 
tures we are. Were it not so, war could never have been 
seen | in any other aspect | than that of unmingled hatefulness ; 
and I can look to nothing | but to the progress of Christian 
sentiment upon earth, to arrest the strong current | of its popu- 
lar and prevailing partiality for war. Then only will an impe- 
rious* sense of duty | lay the check of severe principle on all 
the subordinate tastes | and faculties of our nature. Then will 
glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the wakeful benevo- 
lence of the gospel, chasing away every spell, will be devoted 
to simple but sublime enterprises | for the good of the species 



FIFTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

THE BATTLE AT MARATHON. Webster. 

When the traveller pauses on the plains of Marathon, what 
are the emotions | which strongly agitate his breast ; what is 
that glorious recollection | that thrills through his frame, and 
suffuses his eyes? Not, I imagine, that Grecian skill and 
Grecian valor | were here most signally displayed ; but that 
Greece herself | was saved. It is because | to this spot, and to 
the event | which has rendered it immortal, he refers all the 
succeeding glories of the republic. It is because, if that day 
had gone otherwise, Greece had perished. It is because he 
perceives | that her philosophers and orators, her poets and 
painters, her sculptorsf and architects^ her government and 
free institutions, point backward to Marathon, and that their 
future existence | seems to have been suspended | on the con- 

* Imperious, commanding. 

t Sculptors, those who carve wood or stone into image*. 

t Architects , chief builder* 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 91 

tingency, whether the Persian or Grecian banner should wave 
victorious | in the beams of that day's setting sun. And as his 
imagination kindles | at the retrospect, he is transported back | 
to the interesting moment : he counts the fearful odds of the 
contending hosts ; his interest for the result | overwhelms him; 
he trembles | as if it was still uncertain, and seems to doubt | 
whether he may consider Socrates and Plato,* Demosthenes,} 
Sophocles,}: and Phidias,§ as secure, yet, to himself J and to the 
world. 



FIFTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

reply to walpole. — Lord Chatham. 
Section 1. 

Sir, — The atrocious|| crime | of being a young man, which 
the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, 
charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliated nor deny; 
but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of those J 
whose follies may cease | with their youth, and not of that 
number | who are ignorant | in spite of experience. Whether 
youth can be imputed to any man | as a reproach, I will not, 
Sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely age | may 
become justly contemptible, if the opportunities | which it 
brings | have passed away without improvement, and vice 

,pear to prevail, when the passions have subsided ** 

Section 2 
The wretch, who, after seeing the consequences of a thou- 
sand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only 
idded obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object | either of 
abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not | that his grey hairs 
| should secure him from insult. Much more, Sir, is he to be 
abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has recededff from 
virtue, and become more wicked | with less temptation ; who 
prostitutes himself for money | which he cannot enjoy, and 

* Socrates and Plato, Grecian philosophers. || Atrocious, heinous, very wicked. 

t Demosthenes, a great orator. IT Palliate, cover, excuse. 

J Sophocles, a distinguished poet ** Subsided, ceased. 

$ Phidias, a sculptor tt Receded, gone back from 



92 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

spends the remains of his life | ill the raiii of his country. But 
youth, Sir, is not my only crime ; I have been accused | of act- 
ing a theatrical* part. A theatrical part | may either imply 
some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulationf of my real 
sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions | and language cf 
another man. 

In the first sense, Sir, the charge is too trifling to be con- 
futed ; and deserves only to be mentioned, that it may be des- 
pised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own 
language ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to 
please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any re- 
straint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, how- 
ever matured}: by age, or modelled by experience. But if any 
man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply, 
that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a 
calumniator,§ and a villain ; — nor shall any protection shelter 
him from | the treatment he deserves 

Section 3. 
I shall, on such an occasion, -without scruple, trample upon 
all those forms | with which wealth and dignity entrench 
themselves, — nor shall anything but age | restrain my resent' 
ment ; age, which always brings one privilege, that of being 
insolent and supercilious, || without punishment. But with re- 
gard, Sir, to those | whom I have offended, I am of opinion, 
that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided 
their censure : the heat | that offended them, is the ardor of 
conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which 
neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will 
not sit unconcerned | while my liberty is invaded, nor look in 
silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at 
whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to 
justice, whoever may protect him j in his villainy, and who- 
ever may partake of his plunder. 

* Tlieatrical, suiting a theatre. 

t Dissimulation, a concealing of real views or opinions 

% Matured, ripened, perfected. 

§ Calumniator, slanderer. 

II Supercilious, haxighty 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 93 



FIFTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

ON BEING SENTENCED TO BANISH- 
MENT. — Croly. 
Banished from Rome ! what's banished but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 
" Tried and convicted traitor !" — Who says this ? 
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
Banished ? — I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain ! 
I held some slack allegiance till this horn' — 
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords ; 
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 
To leave you in your lazy dignities. 
But here I stand and scoff you : — here I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face. 
Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks. 
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 
" Traitor !" I go— but I return. This trial ! 
Here I devote your senate ! I've had wrongs, 
To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. 
This day's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions. — Look to your hearths, my lords. 
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ; 
Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones , 
Till anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 



94 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

FIFTY-SEVENTH LESSON 

THE RIGHT TO TAX AMERICA. Burke. 

Section 1. 
" But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." Oh, 
inestimable right ! Oh, wonderful transcendent right ! the as- 
sertion of which | has cost this country thirteen provinces, six 
islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of 
money. , Oh, invaluable right ! for the sake of which | we have 
sacrificed our rank among nations, our importance abroad, and 
our happiness at home ! Oh, right ! more dear to us | than our 
existence, which has already cost us so much, and which 
seems likely to cost us our all. Infatuated man ! miserable • 
and undone country ! not to know J that the claim of right, 
without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We 
have a right to tax America, the noble lord tells us, therefore 
We ought to tax America. This is the profound logic | which 
comprises the whole chain of his reasoning. 

Section 2. 
Not inferior to this | was the wisdom of him j who resolved 
to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have you considered 
the resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt ? No, 
says the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. — 
Man has a right of dominion | over the beasts of the forest : 
and therefore I will shear the wolf. How wonderful — that a 
nation could be thus deluded ! But the noble lord deals in 
cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of his inven- 
tion ; and he will continue to play off his cheats on this house, 
so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so 
long as he has money enough | at command to bribe gentle- 
men | to pretend that they believe him. But a black and bitter 
day of reckoning | will surely come ; and whenever that day 
comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment,* 
to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calamities, the 
punishment they deserve, 

* Impeachment, accusation by lawful authority 






SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 95 

FIFTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CJESAJEt. ShdkspeCtre. 

Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers ! — hear me for my cause, 
and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor ; 
and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Cen- 
sure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
may the better judge. — If there be any | in this assembly, any 
dear friend of Caesar's, to hhn I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar 
was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand | why Bru- 
tus vose against Caesar, this is my answer : not that I loved Cae- 
sar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar 
were living, and die all slaves ; than that Caesar were dead, to 
live all freemen? — As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he 
was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; 
but as he was ambitious, I slew him ! There are tears for his 
love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his 
ambition ! — Who's here so base, that would be a bondman ? if 
xhy, speak ! for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that 
vould not be a Roman ? if any, speak ! for him have I offended 
Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, 
?peak ! for him have I offended. — I pause for a reply. — 

None ? then none have I offended ! I have done no more to 
Caesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his 
death | is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, 
wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which 
he suffered death. 

***** 

With this I depart — that as I slew my best lover for the good 
of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shali 
nlease my country | to need my death. 



96 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FIFTY-NINTH LESSON. 



RIENZl's ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.— Miss MUford, 

Section 1. 
Friends, 
I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thraldom* : — we are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam | 
Falls on a slave ; — not such as, swept along | 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads J 
To crimson glory and undying fame ; 
But base, ignoblef slaves — slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages, 
Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great ( 
In that strange spell, a name. Each hour, dark fraud. 
Or open rapine, or protected murder, 
Cries out against them. But this very day, 
An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 
Was struck — struck like a dog, by one | who wore 
The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, 
He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
Nor lifted up his voice | in servile shouts, 
At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, 
And suffer such dishonor ? men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common. 

Section 2 
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you, 
1 had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look 
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give | 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 

* Thraldom, slavery t Ignoble, mean. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 97 

A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile 

Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 

The pretty harmless boy was slain ! I saw 

The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 

For vengeance ! Rouse, ye Romans : rouse, ye slaves ! 

Have ye brave sons ? Look, in the next fierce brawl, 

To see them die. Have ye daughters fair ? Look 

To see them live, torn from your arms ; * * * 

* * * And, if ye dare call for justice, 

Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, 

That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne 

Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! 

Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman | 

Was greater than a king ! And once, again, — 

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 

Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear, 

The eternal city | shall be free ! her sons | 

Shall walk with princes ! 



SIXTIETH LESSON. 

henry v. to his soldiers. — Shakspeare. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 
Or close the wall up with the English dead J 
In peace, there 's nothing so becomes a man, 
As modest stillness and humility : 
But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; 
Then, lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
Let it pry through the portage of the head 
Like the brass cannon ! 

Now, set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
Hold hard the breath; and bend up every spirit 
To its full height. Now, on, you noblest English 
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war-proof • 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
9 



1 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument I 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. — The game 's afoot ! — 
Follow your spirit ; and, upon this charge, 
Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George ' 



SIXTY-FIRST LESSON. 
reply to corry. — Grattan, 

Section 1. 

Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He 
was unparliamentary* from the beginning | to the end ol his 
speech. There was scarce a word he uttered | that wts not a 
violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call him 
to order — Why ? because the limited talents of some men ren- 
der it impossible for them to be severe | without being unpar- 
liamentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to 
be severe and parliamentary! at the same time. 

On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable | in 
treating with silent contempt anything | which might fall from 
that honorable member ; but there are times, when the insig- 
nificance of the accuser | is lost in the magnitude of the accu- 
sation. I know the difficulty | the honorable gentleman labor- 
ed under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a compara- 
tive view of our characters, public and private, there is noth- 
ing he could say which would injure me. The public would 
not believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a 
charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the 
manner I shall do j before I sit down. But I shall first reply to 
it, when not made by an honest man. 

Section 2. 
The right honorable gentleman | has called me " an unim- 
peached traitor." I ask, why not " traitor," unqualified by an 



* Unparliamentary, contrary to the usage of Parliament ; contrary to rules of debate 
t Parliamentary, according to the usage of Parliament ; according to rules of debate 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 99 

epithet ? I will tell him, it was because he durst not. It was 
the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not 
courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because 
it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counsellor. 1 
will not call him fool, because he happens to be Chancellor* 
of the Exchequer.! But I say, he is one who has abused the 
privilege of Parliament, and freedom of debate, by uttering 
language, which, if spoken out of the House, 1 should answer 
only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low 
his character, how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy 
counsellor or a parasite, % my answer would be a blow. 

He has charged me | with being connected with -the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords 
| for the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove 
to the committee, there was a physical impossibility of that 
report being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my con- 
duct, whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought 
himself into power | by a false glare of courage or not. 

Section 3. 
I have returned, not as the right honorable member has said, 
to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an honor- 
able debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a great re- 
ward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was not 
greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that con- 
stitution, of which I was the parent and the founder, from the 
assassination of such men — as the right honorable gentleman, 
and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt — they are se- 
ditious — and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy 
against their country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false 
as it is malicious, given to the public | under the appellation 
of a report of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready 
for impeachment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the 
honorable gentleman; I defy the government; I defy their 
whole phalanx : let them come forth. I tell the ministers, I 
will neither give them quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the 
shattered remains of my constitution [ on the floor of this 
House ; in defence of the liberties of my country. 

* Chancellor, a judge. 1 Parasite, a flatterer of the rich. 

* Exchequer, a court so called. 



100 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SIXTY-SECOND LESSON. 

THE INFLUENCE OF THE UNITED STATES UPON OTHER 

nations. — Webster. 
Section 1. 

Gentlemen, the spirit of human liberty | and free govern- 
ment | nurtured and grown into strength and beauty | in Ame- 
rica, has stretched its course | into the midst of the nations. 
Like an emanation* from heaven, it has gone forth, and it will 
not return void. It must change, it is fast changing, the face 
of the earth. Our great, our high duty, is to show | in our ex- 
amples, that this spirit | is a spirit of health ) as well as a 
spirit of power; that its benignity is as great | as its strength ; 
that its efficiency | to secure individual rights, social relations, 
and moral order, is equal to the irresistible force | with which 
it prostrates principalitiesf and powers. The world, at this 
moment, is regarding us | with a willing, but something of a 
fearful admiration. Its deep and awful anxiety | is to learn, 
whether free states may be stable | as well as free ; whether 
popular power | may be trusted j as well as feared ; in short, 
whether wise, regular, and virtuous self-government | is a 
vision for the contemplation of theorists, or a truth established, 
illustrated, and brought into practice | in the country of Wash 
ington. 

Section 2. 

Gentlemen, for the earth | which we inherit, and the whole 
circle of the sun, for all the unborn races of mankind, we seem 
to hold | in our hands, for their weal or wo, the fate of this 
experiment. If we fail, who shall venture the repetition ? If 
our example | shall prove to be one, not of encouragement, 
but of terror— not fit to be imitated, but fit only to be shunned 
— where else shall the world look | for free models ? If this 
great Western Sun | be struck out of the firmament, at what 
other fountain | shall the lamp of liberty j hereafter be lighted ? 
What other orb | shall emit a ray to glimmer, even on the 
darkness of the world ? 

* Emanation, that which issues or proceeds, 
t Principalities, dominions of a prince. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 101 

SIXTY-THIRD LESSON. 
A REVOLUTIONARY SONG. 

One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — Invasion has come. 

His shadow has darkened our soil — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! our swords shall strike 
home, 

Ere the robber has gathered his spoil. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — 'tis liberty calls, 

The tyrants are leagued as her foe— 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! our hearts are her 
walls, 

Which tyrants will never o'erthrow. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — our children and 
wives 

Are sinking with terrors oppressed — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! and pledged are our 
lives, 

That these dear ones in safety shall rest. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle ! — and cowards may fly ; 

The foe, like a torrent sweeps on — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! we'll shout ere we die. 

Hurrah ! for the battle is won. 

SIXTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
libert y. — Per civ ah 

Beneath our country's flag we stand, 
And give our hearts to thee, 
Bright power, who steel'st and nerv'st our hand, 
Thou first born, Liberty ! 
Here, on our swords we pledge to give 
Our willing lives, that thou may'st live! 
9* 



>02 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

For thee, the Spartan youth of old, 

To death devoted, fell ! 

Thy spirit made the Roman bold, 

And fired the patriot Tell ! 

Our sires, on Bunker, fought for thee— ■ 

Undaunted fought, and we are free ! 

Run up your starry flag on high ! 

No storm shall rend its folds ; 

On, like a meteor, through the sky, 

Its steady course it holds. 

Thus high in heaven our flag unfurled — 

Go, bear it, Freedom, round the world ! 

SIXTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

on to the strife ! — Anonymous, 

On, on to the just and glorious strife ! 

With your swords your freedom shielding — 
Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life ; 

But die, at least, unyielding. 

On to the strife ! for t'were far more meet 
To sink with the foes who bay you, 

Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrant's feet. 
And smile on the swords that slay you. 

Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! 

Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
Strike ! for your homes and liberty, 

And the heaven you worship o'er you ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 103 

SIXTV-SIXTH LESSON. 

THE BATTLE FIELD.— Patten. 

###### 

Forward ! — 'mid the battle's hum 
Roughly rolls the daring drum. 
Victory, with hurried breath, 
Calls ye, from her mouths of death : 
War, with hand of crimson stain, 
Waves ye to the front again. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward ! ere the fight is done ! 

Forward ! raise the banner high I 
Toss its spangles to the sky, 
Let its eagle, reeking red, 
Float above the foeman's head ; 
Let its stripes of red and white 
Blind again his dazzled sight. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward ! ere the fight is done ! 

Forward ! to the front again ! 
Urge the steed and loose the rein J 
Spur amid the rattling peal ! 
Charge amid the storm of steel ! 
O'er the stream, and from the glen. 
Cowards watch the strife of men. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward ! ere the fight is done 1 



104 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. 

SIXTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

the pilgrims. — Everett. 

Section 1. 

Let us now advert to that period | when our Pilgrim 
Fathers | left their country and their homes | for this then 
unknown shore. Methinks I see that one solitary, adven- 
turous vessel, freighted with the prospects of a future state, 
and bound | across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, 
with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. 
Suns | rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter 
surprises them | on the deep, but brings them not the sight of 
the wished-for shore. 

I see them now — scantily supplied with provisions, crowd- 
ed | almost to suffocation | in their ill-stored prison, delayed 
by calms, pursuing a circuitous route ; — and now driven in 
fury | before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy 
waves. The awful voice of the storm | howls through the 
rigging. The laboring masts | seem straining from their 
base ; — the dismal sound of the pumps j is heard ; — the ship 
leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; — the ocean 
breaks, and settles | with engulfing floods | over the floating 
deck, and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the 
staggered vessel. 

I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their 
all but desperate undertaking, and landing at last, after a 
five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, — 
weak and weary from the voyage, — poorly armed, scantily 
provisioned # # * — without shelter, — without means, sur- 
rounded by hostile tribes. 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any prin 
ciple of human probability, what shall be the fate of this 
handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 105 

in how many months | were they all swept off | by the thirty 
savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits | of New 
England % Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of 
a colony, on which your conventions and treaties | had not 
smiled, languish on the distant coast ? 

Section 2. 

Student of history, compare for me | the baffled projects, 
the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other 
times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's 
storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and chil- 
dren ? was it hard labor and spare meals ? — was it disease 1 
was it the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady of a blighted 
hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its 
last moments, at the recollection of the loved and left beyond 
the sea 1 was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this 
forsaken company | to their melancholy fate ? 

And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all 
combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possi- 
ble, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy | not 
so much of admiration | as of pity, there has gone forth a pro- 
gress | so steady, a growth | so wonderful, an expansion | so 
ample, a reality | so important, a promise | yet to be fulfilled, 
so glorious 1 



SIXTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 
THE SEVERANCE OF SOUTH CAROLINA FROM THE 

union. — Grimke. 

Section 1. 
I ask no pardon, I make no apology | for the boldness and 
frankness | with which I speak. I am still | a freeman : and 
the convention | may be assured, that so long as the liberty 



106 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

of speech | and the liberty of the press remain, there are 
thousands | who will speak and write | as fearlessly | as I do. 
And have they yet to learn, that the confiscation of propeity, 
the imprisonment of the body, nay, the loss of life itself, have 
no terrors | for the brave and the free 1 Have they yet to 
learn | that the dungeon and the scaffold | are the pageantry 
of tyrants, in the eyes of the martyr to civil or religious 
liberty ? Have they yet to learn, that they may torture the 
body, but cannot subdue the soul 1 that they may immolate 
the freeman, a victim to their power, but cannot make him 
the slave of their will 1 Have they, indeed, yet to learn, 
after all the solemn lessons | that Liberty | has taught, amid 
the fires of persecution | and the blood of her martyred chil- 
dren — that the freeman, like the Christian, counts property 
liberty, and life, as dust and ashes, in comparison with his 
principles and independence % 



Section 2. 

I have studied in vain | the history of free communities, 
and especially of this country ; and I have loved and vene- 
rated in vain | the noble qualities of American and of Caro- 
linian character, if there be not thousands | in this State., 
who are ready | in the same cause, to yield up property | to 
your acts of confiscation, liberty | to the loathsomeness of 
your dungeons, and life itself | to the tragedy of your scaf- 
folds. The punishments | you may inflict, may be ignomini- 
ous in your eyes ; but posterity will honor them j as the suf- 
ferings of the virtuous free. You may consign your victim | 
to the death of the malefactor ; but your own children | shall 
acknowledge his title | even to their gratitude and admira 
tion. You may follow him | with scorn and execrations to 
the gallows : — May he be strengthened from above | to make 
the last act of his life, a prayer for his destroyers ! You 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 107 

may brand the grave of your victim, as the grave of the 
traitor; but the very next age | will hallow it as the bed of 
glory. 

SIXTY-NINTH LESSON. 
THE CHARGE. Pertival. 

The horn and the trumpet are ringing afar, 

As the summons to battle are sounding ; 
And the steed, as he catches the signal of war, 

In the pride of his spirit is bounding. 
Shrill it echoes afar, over hill and o'er plain, 
And the wide distant mountains repeat it again ; 
And the shout of the warrior, and nearer the song, 
Peal aloud, as the glittering bands are hurrying along . 
As on, on, on, on pours the tide of fight, 
Still aloft floats the tossing flag, in the glance of morning's 
light. 

We leap to our saddles, we range us in line, 

As the voice of the trumpet is calling ; 
On the crown of yon ridge, bright their drawn sabres shine ; 

Down its slope, like a flood, they are falling. 
" Give the spur to the charge, ere the foeman is nigh : 
Rush amain, as the forest rings loud with your cry : 
Speed on to the shock, in his midway career — 
For our sires still were first in fight ; they never thought of 

fear !" 
So on, on, on, on, o'er the sounding plain, 
To the wild conflict fierce they rush, and together dash 



I 



108 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SEVENTIETH LESSON. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF A FIRM NATIONAL CHARAC 

ter. — Maxcy. 

Section 1. 

The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation 
of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude | to her destruc- 
tion. Behold the once proud fabric | of a Roman empire — 
an empire [ carrying its arts and arms | into every part | of 
the eastern continent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms | 
dragged at the wheels | of her triumphal chariots ; her 
eagle | waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where 
is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory 1 Extin- 
guished forever. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her 
philosophers, her orators, her generals ? Go to their solitary 
tombs and inquire. She lost her national character and her 
destruction | followed. The ramparts of her national pride | 
were broken down, and Vandalism, desolated her classic 
fields. 

Citizens | will lose their respect and confidence | in our 
government, if it does not extend over them | the shield of 
an honorable national character. Corruption | will creep 
in | and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious leaders | will 
seize upon the favorable moment. The mad enthusiasm for 
revolution | will call into action ] the irritated spirit of our 
nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our coun- 
trymen | may yet glitter | on our mountains, their blood 
may yet | crimson our plains. 

Such — the warning voice of all antiquity, the example of 
all republics proclaim — may be our fate. But | let us nc 
longer | indulge th^.se gloomy anticipations. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 109 

Section 2. 

The commencement of our liberty | presages the dawn | 
of a brighter period | to the world. That bold, enterprising 
spirit [ which conducted our heroes | to peace and safety, 
and gave us a lofty rank | amid the empires of the world, 
still animates the bosoms | of their descendants. Look back 
to that moment | when they unbarred the dungeons of the 
slave, and dashed his fetters | to the earth ; when the sword 
of a Washington | leaped from its scabbard | to revenge the 
slaughter of our countrymen. Place their example | before 
you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom | flash across 
your minds, and the sacred altars of your liberty, crowned 
with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on the vir- 
tue, the courage, the patriotism, and the strength | of our 
country, we may expect [ our national character | will be- 
come more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may 
hail the age | as not far distant, when will be heard, as the 
proudest exclamation of man : I am an American. 

SEVENTY-FIRST LESSON. 
old ironsides. — Holmes. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rang the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below. 
10 



110 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

No more shall feel the victor's tread ; 

No more the conquered knee ; 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea. 

Oh ! better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave : — 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep. 

And there should be her grave ! 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms, — 

The lightning, and the gale ! 



SEVENTY-SECOND LESSON. 

leonidas. — Croly. 

Shout for the mighty men, 

Who died along this shore — 
"Who died within this mountain's glen 
For never nobler chieftain's head 
Was laid on Valor's crimson bed, 

Nor ever prouder gore 
Sprang forth, than theirs who won the day 
Upon thy strand, Thermopylae ! 

Shout for the mighty men, 

Who, on the Persian tents, 
Like lions from their midnight den 
Bounding on the slumbering deer, 
Rushed — a storm of sword and spear — 

Like the roused elements, 
Let loose from an immortal hand, 
To chasten or to crush a land ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. Ill 

But there are none to hear ; 

Greece is a hopeless slave. 
Leonidas ! no hand is near 
To lift thy fiery falchion now ; 
No warrior makes the warrior's vow 

Upon thy sea-washed grave. 
The voice that should be raised by men, 
Must now be given by wave and glen. 

And it is given ! — the surge — 

The tree — the rock — the sand — 
On Freedom's kneeling spirit urge, 
In sounds that speak but to the free, 
The memory of thine and thee ! 

The vision of thy band 
Still gleams within the glorious dell, 
Which their gore hallowed, as it fell ! 

And is thy grandeur done ? 

Mother of men like these ! 
Has not thy outcry gone, 
Where justice has an ear to hear ? — 
Be holy ! God shall guide thy spear ; 

Till in thy crimsoned seas 
Are plunged the chain and scimitar, 
Greece shall be a new-born star ! 



SEVENTY-THIRD LESSON. 

" to arms !" — Park Benjamin. 

Awake ! arise, ye men of might 1 
The glorious hour is nigh — 

Your eagle pauses in his flight, 
And screams his battle-cry. 



1 1 2 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

From north to south, from east to west, 
Send back an answering cheer, 

And say farewell to peace and rest, 
And banish doubt and fear. 

Arm ! arm ! your country bids you arm ! 

Fling out your banners free — 
Let drum and trumpet sound alarm. 

O'er mountain, plain, and sea ! 
# # # # # # # 
Go, vindicate your country's fame ! 

Avenge your country's wrong ! 
The sons should own a deathless name, 

To whom such sires belong. 

The kindred of the noble dead 
As noble deeds should dare: 

The fields whereon their blood was shed. 
A deeper stain must bear. 

To arms ! to arms ! ye men of might 1 

Away from home, away ! 
The first and foremost in the fight 

Are sure to win the day ! 



SEVENTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
make way for liberty. — Montgomery. 

" Make way for liberty !" — he cried ; 
Made way for liberty, and died ! 

It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ! 
All Switzerland is in the field, 
She will not fly, she cannot yield — 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 113 

She must not fall ; her "better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast ; 
But every freeman was a host, 
And felt as though himself were he, 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 
Behold him — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked he stood amid the throng, 
In rumination deep and long, 
Till you might see, with sudden grace, 
The very thought come o'er his face ; 
And, by the motion of his form, 
Anticipate the bursting storm ; 
And, by the uplifting of his brow, 
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 

But 't was no sooner thought than done ! 
The field was in a moment won : — 
" Make way for liberty !" he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friends to clasp ; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp : 
" Make way for liberty!" he cried, 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
And thus made way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly j 
" Make way for liberty !" they cry, 
And through the Austrian phalanx dart, 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 
While, instantaneous as his fall, 
Kout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 
10* 



114 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

An earthquake could not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 
Thus death made way for liberty ! 



SEVENTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
THE EFFICIENCY OF WOMAN. — J. f$. Jones. 

Under the guidance of Divine Providence, it has been the 
lot of woman to occupy an important position, and to exercise 
an imposing influence, in all reforms of modern times ; but 
particularly so in the events that have marked the history of 
our own country. To her perseverance and zeal are we in- 
debted for the means that enabled the energetic and philoso- 
phical Columbus to prosecute his first adventurous voyage 
over unknown seas, in search of a land that was deemed to 
have no existence, but in the imagination of a few visionary 
enthusiasts. The first Pilgrims were induced to seek a home 
upon that shore her munificence had aided to discover ; and 
her forbearance and devotion cheered that home, softened 
the bitterness of exile, and awoke new hopes, new ideas, new 
objects, which eventually resulted in preserving the nucleus 
of a mighty nation, whose power is hereafter to rule the des- 
tinies and shape the institutions of civilized man. 

Shall we turn over a few pages more of our national his- 
tory, and observe the young giant of the "West she had as- 
sisted to rear in the wilderness, preparing to combat against 
the Colossus of the Old World, in defence of the rights of 
man and the liberty of our species. Do we find woman 
wanting at this time, although she was well aware that the 
struggle was to her to be one of privation, affliction, and dis- 
tress, in which the dearest ties would be severed, and the 
holiest associations of religion and kindred scattered to the 
wind by the bloody hand of carnage and devastation 7 No, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 115 

in all things the women of the Revolution were true to their 
country, to their God, and to themselves. The same fair 
hand that girded the sabre on the soldier of Freedom, sought 
upon the blood-stained field for the wounded, and crowned 
with victorious laurel the brow of the triumphant warrior. 
Nor did her exertions in her country's cause cease when suc- 
cess crowned our efforts, and peace, with her " downy pinion," 
spread repose over an exhausted and distressed land. 

A mighty wilderness was to be subdued, and the fertile 
and bounteous West offered her allurements to the hardy 
and adventurous citizen : again we see woman forsaking the 
ease and luxury of refinement to be the companion of the 
pioneer, who, guided by the star of a nation's destiny, onward 
works his way, advancing Christianity and civilization even 
to the far-off shores of the Pacific Ocean ; yes, even there, 
amidst the rank foliage of the primitive forests, surrounded 
by the cunning and treacherous aborigines, is woman to be 
found, assisting man in his toil, cheering his home, enliven- 
ing his fireside, nursing him in sickness, consoling him in 
affliction, and rejoicing in his success ; and now that cities, 
towns and villages abound, this great West offers to the op- 
pressed of every nation a home, where, free from tyranny 
and its concomitant evils, they may in peace reap the fruit 
of their industry, and worship God according to the dictates 
of conscience. But a new victory is now to be achieved, 
new trophies are to be gained, the physical obstacles that 
stood in the path of our national greatness have been sub- 
dued, and the progressive spirit of our race has directed their 
energies towards the subjugation of vice, and that triumph 
of moralprinciple that alone can render a people mighty and 
happy. 



116 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

SEVENTY-SIXTH LESSON. 
ye sons of sires. — Percival. 

Ye sons of sires, who fought and bled 

For liberty and glory, 
Whose fame shall ever wider spread 

Till Time is bent and hoary — 
Awake to meet the invading foe ! 

Rouse at the call of danger ! 
Beat down again his standard low, 

And backward hurl the stranger ! 

They knew no fear, those sires of old — 

'Mid swords and bayonets clashing, 
Still high they bore their banner's fold, 

Its stars, like lightnings flashing. 
Be like those sires ! — With freeborn might 

Renew the deeds of story ! 
Who lives, shall win a wreath of light — 

Who falls, shall sleep in glory ! 

SEVENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
fourth of july. — Mrs. Sigonrney. 

Wild was the battle strife, 
And loud the threat of foes, 

When Liberty to healthful life 
With our young country rose ; 

But now her banner proud 

Floats high, from zone to zone, 

A constellation on the cloud 
By all the nations known. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 117 

And we have come, to greet 
The birth-day of our land, 
With joyous hearts, and thronging feet, 
A young and happy hand. 

No warrior's shout is poured 

To daunt these festal hours ; 
Instead of flashing spear and sword, 

We bring the tinted flowers. 

Like them our love shall root 

In sunbeam and in blast, 
And richly bend with patriot fruit 

While fleeting life shall last. 

SEVENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 
the survivors of the revolution. — E. Everett. 

Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, the 
men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, stood for- 
ward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly endeavor- 
ing to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of their exploits. 
The efforts of a life would scarce suffice to paint out this 
picture, in all its astonishing incidents, in all its mingled 
colors of sublimity and wo, of agony and triumph. 

But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice of 
our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the soil 
which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in their 
proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high-souled 
day. The generation of contemporary worthies is gone ; the 
crowd of the unsignalized great and good disappears ; and 
the leaders in war as well as council are seen, in Fancy's 
eye, to take their stations on the mount of Remembrance. 

They come from the embattled cliffs of Abraham ; they 
start from the heaving sods of Bunker's Hill ; they gather 



ll8 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

from the blazing lines of Saratoga and Yorktown, from the 
blood-dyed waters of the Brandywine, from the dreary 
snows of Valley Forge, and all the hard-fought fields of the 
war. With all their wounds and all their honors, they rise 
and plead with us for their brethren who survive ; and bid 
us, if indeed we cherish the memory of those who bled in 
our cause, to show our gratitude, not by sounding words, 
but by stretching out the strong arm of the country's pros- 
perity, to help the veteran survivors gently down to their 
graves. 



SEVENTY-NINTH LESSON. 
LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. Moore. 

From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly ? 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? 
Hark ! hark ! 'tis the trumpet, the call of the brave, 
The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. 
Our country lies bleeding — oh ! fly to her aid ; 
One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. 
From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly % 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die 1 

In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains — 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains ! 
On, on to the combat ! the heroes that bleed 
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. 
And oh ! even if Freedom from this world be driven 
Despair not — at least we shall find her in heaven. 
In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains, 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 119 



EIGHTIETH LESSON. 
ODE FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

When Freedom, midst the battle storm, 

Her weary head reclined, 
And round her fair, majestic form, 

Oppression fain had 'twined, 
Amid the din beneath the cloud, 

Great Washington appeared, 
With daring hand rolled back the shroud, 

And thus the sufferer cheered : 

u Spurn, spurn despair ! be great, be free ! 

With giant strength arise ; 
Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, 

Thy flag plant in the skies ! 
Clothe, clothe thyself in Glory's robe, 

Let stars thy banners gem ; 
Rule, rule the sea — possess the globe — 

Wear Victory's diadem ! 

u Go and proclaim a world is born, 

Another orb gives light ; 
Another sun illumes the morn, 

Another star the night : 
Be just, be brave ! and let thy name 

Henceforth Columbia be ; 
Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame, 

The wreath of Liberty." 

He said — and lo ! the stars of night 

Forth to her banner flew ; 
And morn, with pencil dipp'd in light, 

Her blushes on it drew ; 
Columbia's eagle seized the prize, 

And, gloriously unfurled, 
Soared with it to his native skies, 
And waved it o'er the world. 



120 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



CHAPTER XII. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

Note.— The sign of the rhetorical pause ( | ) is omitted in the following selections, 
as a dne attention to it in the foregoing, will enable the pupil to make the proper pau- 
ses without it. 

EIGHTY-FIRST LESSON. 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. W, Irving. 

I am now alone in my chamber. The family have long since 
retired. I have heard their steps die away, and the doors clap 
to after them. The murmur of voices and the peal of remote 
laughter no longer reach the ear. The clock from the church, 
in which so many of the former inhabitants of this house lie 
buried, has chimed the awful hour of midnight. 

I have sat by the window and mused upon the dusky land- 
scape, watching the lights disappearing one by one from the 
distant village ; and the moon rising in her silent majesty, and 
leading up all the silver pomp of heaven. As I have gazed 
upon these quiet groves and shadowing lawns, silvered over 
and imperfectly lighted by streaks of dewy moonshine, my 
mind has been crowded by " thick coming fancies" concerning 
those spiritual beings which 

m , Walk the earth 

Unseen both when we wake and when we sleep." 

Are there, indeed, such beings ? Is this space between us 
and the Deity filled up by innumerable orders of spiritual 
beings, forming the same gradations between the human soul 
and divine perfection, that we see prevailing from humanity 
down to the meanest insect ? It is a sublime and beautiful 
doctrine inculcated by the early fathers, that there are guardian 
^angels appointed to watch over cities and nations, to take care 
of good men, and to guard and guide the steps of helpless in- 
fancy. Even the doctrine of departed spirits returning to visit 
the scenes and beings which were dear to them during the 
bodies' existence, though it has been debased by the absurd 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 121 

superstitions of the vulgar, in itself is awfully solemn and sub- 
lime. 

However lightly it may be ridiculed, yet, the attention invo- 
luntarily yielded to it whenever it is made the subject of 
serious discussion, and its prevalence in all ages and countries, 
even among newly discovered nations that have had no pre- 
vious interchange of thought with other parts of the world, 
prove it to be one of those mysterious and instinctive beliefs 
to which, if left to ourselves, we should naturally incline. 

In spite of all the pride of reason and philosophy, a vague 
doubt will still lurk in the mind, and perhaps will never be 
eradicated, as it is a matter that does not admit of positive de- 
monstration. Who yet has been able to comprehend and de- 
scribe the nature of the soul ; its mysterious connection with 
the body ; or in what part of the frame it is situated ? We know 
merely that it does exist : but whence it came, and when it 
entered into us, and how it is retained, and where it is seated, 
and how it operates, are all matters of mere speculation, and 
contradictory theories. If, then, we are thus ignorant of this 
spiritual essence, even while it forms a part of ourselves, and 
is continually present to our consciousness, how can we pre- 
tend to ascertain or deny its powers and operations, when re- 
leased from its fleshly prison-house ? 

Everything connected with our spiritual nature is full of 
doubt and difficulty. " We are fearfully and wonderfully made ;" 
we are surrounded by mysteries, and we are mysteries even to 
ourselves. It is more the manner in which this superstition 
has been degraded, than its intrinsic absurdity, that has brought 
it into contempt. Raise it above the frivolous purposes to 
which it has been applied, strip it of the gloom and horror with 
which it has been enveloped, and there is none, in the whole 
circle of visionary creeds, that could more delightfully elevate 
the imagination, or more tenderly affect the heart. It would 
become a sovereign comfort at the bed of death, soothing the 
bitter tear wrung from Us by the agony of mortal separation. 

What could be more consoling than the idea, that the souls 

of those we once loved were permitted to return and watch 

over our welfare ? — that affectionate and guardian spirits sat by 

our pillows when we slept, keeping a vigil over our most help- 

11 



122 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

less hours ? — that beauty and innocence, which had languished 
into the tomb, yet smiled unseen around us, revealing them- 
selves in those blest dreams wherein we live over again the 
hours of past endearments ? A belief of this kind would, I 
should think, be a new incentive to virtue, rendering us cir- 
cumspect, even in our most secret moments, from the idea that 
those we once loved and honored were invisible witnesses of 
all our actions. 

It would take away, too, from that loneliness and destitu- 
tion, which we are apt to feel more and more as we get on in 
our pilgrimage through the wilderness of this world, and rind 
that those who set forward with us lovingly and cheerily, on 
the journey, have one by one dropped away from our side. 
Place the superstition in this light, and I confess I should like 
to be a believer in it. — I see nothing in it that is incompatible 
with the tender and merciful nature of our religion, or revolting 
to the wishes and affections of the heart. 

There are departed beings that I have loved as I never again 
shall love in this world ; that have loved me as I never again 
shall be loved. If such beings do even retain in their blessed 
spheres the attachments which they felt on earth ; if they take 
an interest in the poor concerns of transient mortality, and are 
permitted to hold communion with those whom they have 
loved on earth, I feel as if I Could receive their visitation with 
the most solemn but unalloyed delight. 

In truth, such visitations would be too happy for this world : 
they would take away from the bounds and barriers that hem 
us in and keep us from each other. Our existence is doomed 
to be made up of transient embraces and long separations 
The most intimate friendship — of what brief and scattered por- 
tions of time does it consist ! We take each other by the 
hand ; and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness , 
and we rejoice together for a few short moments ; and then 
days, months, years intervene, and We have no intercourse 
with each other. Or if we dwell together for a season, the 
grave soon closes its gates, and cuts off all further communion ; 
and our spirits must remain in separation and widowhood, 
until they meet again in that more perfect state of being, where 
soul shall dwell with soul, and there shall be no such thing as 
death, or absence, or any other interruption of our union 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 123 

EIGHTY-SECOND LESSON. 
THE DYING ARCHER.— *R. (7. WhterstOfl. 

The day has near ended, the light quivers through 
The leaves of the forest, which bend with the dew ; 
The flowers bow in beauty, the smooth-flowing stream, 
Is gliding as softly as thoughts in a dream ; 
The low room is darkened, there breathes not a sound, 
While friends in their sadness are gathering round ; 
Now out speaks the Archer, his course well nigh done, 
" Throw, throw back the lattice,* and let in the sun '" 

The lattice is opened ; and now the blue sky 

Brings joy to his bosom, and fire to his eye ; 

There stretches the greenwood, where, year after year, 

He " chased the wild roe-buck and followed the deer." 

He gazed upon mountain, and forest, and dell, 

Then bowed he, in sorrow, a silent farewell : 

" And when we are parted, and when thou art dead, 

Oh where shall we lay thee ?" his followers said. 

Then up rose the Archer, and gazed once again 

On far-reaching mountain, and river, and plain ; 

" Now bring me my uuiver,f and tighten my bow, 

And let the winged arrow my sepulchre show !" 

Out, out through the lattice, the arrow has passed, 

And in the far forest has lighted at last, 

And there shall the hunter in slumber be laid, 

Where wild-deer are bounding beneath the green Miade 

His last words are finished : his spirit has fled, 
And now lies in silence the form of the dead ; 
The lamps in the chamber are flickering dim, 
And sadly the mourners are chanting their hymn ; 
And now to the greenwood, and now on the sod, 
Where lighted the arrow, the mourners have trod ; 
And thus by the river, where dark forests wave, 
That noble old Archer hath found him a grave ! 

* Lattice, a window of grate-work. * Quiver, a case for arrow*. 



124 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

EIGHTY-THIRD LESSON. 

the American flag. — J. R. Drake. 
When Freedom, from her mountain height, 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure* robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there ; 
She mingled with the gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldricf of the skies, 
And striped its pure' celestial white, 
With streakings of the morning light 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

Majestic monarch of the cloud, 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning-lances driven, 

When strike the warriors of the storm 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the Sun, to thee 't is given, 
To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in the sulphur smoke, 
To ward away the battle-stroke, 
And bid its blendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
The harbinger^ of victory. 

Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph, high. 
When speaks the signal trumpet-tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on 
(Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glist'ning bayonet), 

* Azure, blue, sky-colored. 

t Baldric [pronounced bawldrikL a girdle 

% Harbinger, forerunner 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 125 

Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy meteor-glories burn, 
And, as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance ; 
And, when the camion-mouthings loud 
Heave, in wild wreaths, the battle-shroud, ; 
And gory sabres rise and fall, 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall ! 
There shall thy victor-glances glow, 

And cowering* foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas, on ocean's wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave, 
When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
And frightened waves rush wildly back, 
Before the broadside's reeling rack ; 
The dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly, 
In triumph, o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free hearts' only home, 

By angel-hands to valor given, 
Thy stars have lit the welkinf dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven 
For ever float that standard sheet ! 

Where breathes the foe, but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ? 



* Cowering., stooping, shrinking. 

♦ Welkin dome, the sky, the regions of the air. 

11* 



126 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

EIGHTH-FOURTH LESSON. 

THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES. H. F. Gould. 

" Alas ! alas !" said the sorrowing tree, " my beautiful robe 
is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded pieces whirl 
upon the wind ! they rustle beneath the squirrel's foot, as he 
searches for his nut. They float upon the passing stream, and 
on the quivering lake. Wo is me ! for my fair green vesture is 
gone. It was the gift of the angel of the leaves ! I have lost 
it, and my glory has vanished ; my beauty has disappeared. 
My summer hours have passed away. My bright and come- 
ly garment, alas ! it is rent in a thousand parts. Who will 
weave me such another ? Piece by piece, it has been stripped 
from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the loss of one, ere another 
wandered off on air. The sound of music cheers me no more. 
The birds that sang in my bosom were dismayed* at my desola- 
tion. They have flown away with their songs. 

" I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe with his 
smile. The zephyrsf breathed softly through its glassy folds ; 
the clouds strewed pearls among them. My shadow was wide 
upon the earth. My arms spread far on the gentle air; my 
head was lifted high; my forehead was fair to the heavens. 
But now how changed ! Sadness is upon me ; my head is 
shorn, my arms are stripped ; I cannot throw a shadow on the 
ground. Beauty has departed ; gladness is gone out of my 
bosom ; the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into 
the earth. I am thirsty, I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in 
the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. 
The winter is coming; I am destitute. Sorrow is my portion. 
Mourning must wear me away. How shall I account to the 
angel who clothed me, for the loss of his beautiful gift?" 

The angel had been listening. In soothing accents he an- 
Bwered the lamentation. 

" My beloved tree," said he, " be comforted ! I am by thee 
still, though every leaf has forsaken thee. The voice of glad- 
ness is hushed among the boughs, but let my whisper console 
thee. Thy sorrow is but for a season. Trust in me ; keep my 

*Di$jnayed, terrified. t Zephyrs, gentle west winds. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 127 

promise in thy heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the 
words I leave with thee, abide and cheer thee through the 
coming winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew. 

" The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift through 
thy naked limbs. But these will be light and passing afflic- 
tions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless arms ; but 
it shall soon dissolve in tears. It shall pass into the ground 
and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep up in secret 
beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branches it has op- 
pressed, and help me to adorn them. For I shall be here to 
use it. 

" Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The frost would 
chill and dest; oy it. It has gone into thy mother's bosom for 
her to keep it warm. Earth will not rob her offspring. She is 
a careful parent. She knows the wants of her children, and 
forgets not to provide for the least of them. 

" The sap that has for a while gone down, will make thy 
roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then return to 
nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strengthened. 
Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in my promise, 
I will fulfil it. Buds shall shoot forth on every side of thy 
boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I will paint it 
and fit it in every part. It shall be a comely raiment. Thou 
shalt forget thy present sorrow. Sadness shall be swallowed 
up in joy. Now, my beloved tree, fare thee well for a season !' 

The angel was gone. The muttering winter drew near. 
The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm came and 
howled around the tree. But the word of the angel was hidden 
in her heart; it soothed her amid the threatenings of the 
tempest The ice cakes rattled upon her limbs ; they loaded 
and weighed them down. " My slender branches," said she, 
" let not this burden overcome you. Break not beneath this 
heavy affliction ; break not, but bend, till you can spring back 
t<5 your places. Let not a twig of you be lost ! Hope must 
prop you up for a while, and the angel will reward your 
patience. You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall be 
again in your motion, and beauty hanging around you i" 

The scowling face of Avinter began to lose its features. The 
raofins: storm grew faint, and breathed its last. The restless 



128 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

clouds fretted themselves to atoms ; they scattered upon the 
sky, and were brushed away. The sun threw down a bundle 
of golden arrows. They fell upon the tree; the ice cakes 
glittered as they came. Every one was shattered by a shaft, 
and unlocked itself upon the limb. They were melted and gone 
The reign of spring had come. Her blessed ministers were 
broad in the earth ; they hovered in the air ; they blended 
their beautiful tints, and cast a new created glory on the face 
of the heavens. 

The tree was rewarded for her trust. The angel was true to 
the object of his love. He returned ; he bestowed on her an- 
other robe. It was bright, glossy and unsullied.* The dust 
of summer had never lit upon it ; the scorching heat had not 
faded it; the moth had not profanedf it. The tree stood again 
in loveliness ; she was dressed in more than her former beauty. 
She was very fair ; joy smiled around her on every side. The 
birds new back to her bosom. They sang on every branch a 
hymn to the Angel of the Leaves. 



EIGHTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
THE SONG OF THE ANGELS AT BETHLEHEM. J.Grahame 

Deep was the midnight silence in the fields 

Of Bethlehem ; hushed the folds ; save that at times 

Was heard the lambs' faint bleat ; the shepherds stretched 

On the green sward, surveyed the starry vault. 

" The heavens declare the glory of the Lord, 

The firmament shows forth thy handiwork ;" 

Thus they their hearts attuned to the most High ; 

When suddenly a splendid cloud appeared, 

As if a portion of the milky way 

Descended slowly in the spiral course ; • 

Near and more near it draws ; then, hovering, floats 

High as the soar of eagles, shedding bright 

Upon the folded flocks a heavenly radiance. 

From whence was uttered loud, yet sweet, a voice : 

* Unsullied, not stained. f Profaned, injured. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. *29 

" Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy , 

For unto you is born this day a Saviour ! 

And this shall be a sign to you : the babe 

Laid lowly in a manger ye shall find :" 

The angel spake, when, lo ! upon the cloud, 

A multitude of seraphim enthroned, 

Sang praises, saying, " glory to the Lord 

On high : on earth be peace, good will to men." 

With sweet response* harmoniously they choired ;f 

And while with heavenly harmony the song 

Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throng 

Illumed the land : the prowling lion stops, 

Awe-struck, with mane upreared, and flattened head ; 

And without turning, backward on his steps 

Recoils,:}: aghast, into the desert gloom. 

A trembling joy the astonished shepherds prove, 

As heavenward re-ascends the vocal blaze 

Triumphantly ; while by degrees the strain 

Dies on the ear, that self-deluded, listens, 

As if a sound so sweet could never die. 



EIGHTY-SIXTH LESSON. 
LIFE : AN ALLEGORY.—JI G. PerCWdl. 

It is now Morning. Still and glassy lies the lake, within its 
green and dew-sprent§ shores. Light mist hangs around, like a 
skiey veil, and only reveals the uncertain outlines of woods 
and hills. The warm vernal|| air is just stirring in the valleys, 
but has not yet ruffled the water's mirror. Turn the eye upward 
— the misty vault opens into the calm, clear heavens, over which 
there seems suffusedn a genial** spirit's breath. Far distant on 
the horizon flash out the gilded and reddening peaks ; and from 
yonder crown of snow, a sudden radiance announces the risen 
sun. Now in the east stream the golden rays through the soft 

* Response, answer. || Vernal, belonging to spring, 

t Choired, sung in a choir. *T Suffused, overspread. 

% Recoils, rushes back. ** Genial, cheerful 
£ Sprent, sprinkled. 



J 30 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

blue vapor The breeze freshens, and comes loaded with fra- 
grance from the woods. A faint, dark curl sweeps over the 
water ; the mist rolls up, lifts itself above meadow and hill, and 
in gathered folds hangs light around the mountains. Away on 
the level lake, till it meets the sky, silvery gleams* the sheeted 
wave, sprinkled with changeful stars, as the ever-rising breeze 
breaks it in ripples. Now the pennonf that hung loose around 
the mast rises and fitfully floats. We spread the sail, and, cast- 
ing off from the shore, glide out with cheerful hearts on our 
voyage Before us widens the lake ; rock after rock receding 
back on either hand, and opening between, still bays, hung 
round with sparkling woods, or leading through green meadow 
vistas to blue sunny hills. 

It is now Noon. In the middle lake speeds the bark ovei 
light-glancing waves. Dark opens down the clear depth. 
White toss the crests of foam, — and, as the sail stoops to the 
6teady wind, swift flies the parted water round the prow, and 
rushing pours behind the stern. The distant shores glow bright 
in the .sun, that alone in the heaven looks unveiled with 
vivifying^ goodness over the earth. How high and broad 
swells the sky ! The agitated lake tosses like a wide field of 
snowy blossoms. Sweep after sweep of the long-retiring shores — 
hill gleaming over hill, up to the shadowy mountains — and ovei 
these Alpine§ needles, shooting pearly white into the bound- 
less azure || — all lie still and happy under the ever-smiling sun 

And now it is Evening. The sun is sinking behind the dark 
mountains, and clouds scattered far in the east float soft in rosy 
light. The sun is now hidden, and strong and wide sweeps up 
its golden flame, like the holy blaze of a funeral pile. The 
breeze slackens — the waves subside in slumber — and slowly the 
bark steers into its sheltering bay. Long shadows stretch from 
hill to valley — fall like dark curtains on the lake — and a solemn, 
subdued serenity broods, like a protecting spirit, over the hush- 
ed and quiet earth. Only the far summits yet retain their 



* Gleams, shines with sudden flashes of light 

t Pennon, a small flag. 

X Vivifying, making alive, animating 

<S Alpine, belonging to the Alps. 

|| Azure, blue color, the sky 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 13. 

first dawning roses, like the memory of early joys in the tran 
quil moments of departing age. These, too, fade; but the 
evening star looks bright from the blue infinite, and, like the 
herald* of a better world, leads us softly to our haven. 



EIGHTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

the cloud. — Shelley, 

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 

From the seas and the streams ; 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 

In their noon-day dreams. 
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 

The sweet birds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 

■ As she dances about the sun. 
I wield the flail of lashing hail, 

And whiten the green plains under, 
And then again I dissolve it in rain, 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 
I sift the snow on the mountains below, . 

And their great pines groan aghast ; 
And all the night 'tis my pillow white s 

While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers. 

Lightning my pilot sits ; 
In a cavern under, is fettered the thunder, 

It struggles and howls at fits ; 
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 

This pilot is guiding me, 
Lured by the love of the geniif that move 

In the depths of the purple sea : 
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 

Over the lakes and the plains, 
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, 

The spirit he loves remains ; 

* Herald, a harbinger, forerunner. 

t Genii, imaginary beings of a grade between men and angels. 



132 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, 

Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 
The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 

And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, 

When the morning star shines dead 
As on the jag of a mountain crag, 

Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
An eagle alit one moment may sit 

In the light of its golden wings. 
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 

Its ardors of rest and of love, 
And the crimson pall of eve may fall 

From the depth of heaven above, 
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, 

As still as a brooding dove. 
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, 

Whom mortals call the moon, 
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 

By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 

Which only the angels hear, 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 

The stars peep behind her and peer ; 
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 

Like a swarm of golden bees, 
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 

Are each paved with the moon and these. 
I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, 

And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, 

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, 

Over a torrent sea, 
Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof, 

The mountains its columns be. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 133 

The triumphal arch through which I march 

With hurricane, fire and snow, 
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, 

Is the million-colored bow ; 
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 

While the moist earth was laughing below. 
I am the daughter of earth and water, 

And the nursling of the sky ; 
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores : 

I change, but I cannot die. 



EIGHTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

the broken heart. — Washington Irving. 

Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E , 

the Irish patriot; it was too touching to be soon forgotten. 
During the troubles in Ireland, he was tried, condemned and 
executed, on a charge of treason. His fate made a deep im- 
pression on public sympathy. He was so young — so intelli- 
gent — so generous — so brave — so everything that we are apt 
to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so 
lofty and intrepid. The noble indignation with which he re- 
pelled the charge of treason against his country — the eloquent 
vindication of his name — and his pathetic appeal to posterity, 
in the hopeless hour of condemnation — all these entered deeply 
into every generous bosom, and even his enemies lamented 
the stern policy that dictated his execution. 

But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be impos- 
sible to describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, he had 
won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, the 
daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him 
with the disinterested fervor of a woman's first and early love. 
When every worldly maxim arrayed itself against him ; when 
blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around 
his name, she loved him the more ardently for his very suffer- 
ings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy, even of 
his foes, what must have been the agony of her whose whole 
soul was Occupied by his image! Let those tell who have 
12 



134 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between them and 
the being they most loved on earth — who have sat at his thresh- 
old, as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from whence 
all that was most lovely and loving had departed. 

But then the horrors of such a grave ! so frightful, so dis- 
honored ! There was nothing for memory to dwell on, that 
could soothe the pang of separation — none of those tender, 
though melancholy circumstances, that endear the parting 
scene — nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed tears, sent, 
like the dews of Heaven, to revive the heart in the parching 
hour of anguish. 

To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had in- 
curred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, 
and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could the sym- 
pathy and kind offices of friends have reached a spirit so 
shocked and driven in by horror, she would have experienced 
ho want of consolation, for the Irish are a people of quick and 
generous sensibilities. The most delicate and cherishing at- 
tentions were paid her by families of wealth and distinction. 
She was led into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupa- 
tion and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from 
the tragical story of her lover. But it was all in vain. There 
are some strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch the soul — 
that penetrate to the vital seat of happiness — and blast it, 
never again to put forth bud or blossom. She never objected 
to frequent the haunts of pleasure, but she was as much alone 
there as in the depths of solitude. She walked about in a sad 
reverie, apparently unconscious of the world around her. She 
carried with her an inward wo, that mocked at all the blan- 
dishments of friendship, and "heeded not the song of the 
charmer, charm he ever so wisely." 

The person who told me her story had seen her at a mas- 
querade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness 
more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. To 
find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joyless, where all 
around is gay — to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, 
and looking so wan and wo-begone, as if it had tried in vain 
to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sor- 
row. .After strolling through the splendid rooms and gidd) 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 135 

crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself down on 
the steps of an orchestra, and looking about for some time with 
a vacant air that showed her insensibility to the garish* scene, 
she began, with the capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble 
a little plaintive air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this 
occasion it was so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such 
a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent 
around her, and melted every one into tears. 

The story of one so true and tender, could not but excite 
great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. It com- 
pletely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his addresses 
to her, and thought that one so true to the dead could not but 
prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attentions, 
for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of 
her former lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He soli- 
cited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by 
her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own destitute 
mnd dependent situation ; for she was existing on the kindness 
of friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her 
hand, though with the solemn assurance that her heart was 
unalterably another's. 

He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of 
scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She 
was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be 
a happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent and devouring 
melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted 
away in a slow but hopeless decline, and at length sunk into 
the grave, the victim of a broken heart. 

It was on her that Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, com- 
posed the following lines : 

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps 

And lovers around her are sighing : 
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, 

For her heart in his grave is lying. 

She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 

Every note which he loved awaking — 
Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, 

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! 

* Garish, gaudy, showy. 



136 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

He had lived for his love— for his country he died, 
They were all that to life had entwined him— 

Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 

Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 
When they promise a glorious morrow ; 

They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west, 
From her own loved island of sorrow ! 



EIGHTY-NINTH LESSON. 
THE PILGRIM FATHERS John PierpOlU, 

The Pilgrim Fathers, — where are they ? 

The waves that brought them o'er 
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray 

As they break along the shore : 
Still roll hi the bay, as they roll'd that day 

When the Mayflower* moor'd below, 
When the sea around was black with storms, 

And white the shore with snow. 

The mists, that wrapp'd the Pilgrim's sleep, 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, 

To stay its waves of pride. 
But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale 

When the heavens look*d dark, is gone ; — 
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 

Is seen, and then withdrawn. 

The Pilgrim exile, — sainted name ! 

The hill, whose icy brow 
Rejoiced when he came, in the morning's flame, 

In the morning's flame burns now. 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 

On the hill-side and the sea, 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; — 

But the Pilgrim, — where is he ? 

* Mayflower, a ship so called. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 137 

The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest; 

When summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure* dress'd, 

Go, stand on the nill where they lie. 
The earliest ray of the golden day 

On that hallow'd spot is cast ; 
And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 

Looks kindly on that spot last. 

The Pilgrim spirit has not fled ; 

It walks in noon's broad light ; 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With their holy stars, by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, 

Shall foam and freeze no more. 



NINETIETH LESSON. 

a sketch. — New Yorker, 

The first sensation wrought in the Revolutionists was the 
surprise of disappointed confidence. I can well imagine to 
myself the shock that these early demonstrations of tyranny 
gave them. Impoverished by war, debilitatedf by exertion, 
their agriculture suffering, their commerce unsettled, their 
currency deplorable, they must have been apoplexed with 
astonishment at this rapid succession of cruelties from the 
Parent Empire. This past, and the bitter, sickening grief of 
wounded affection and outraged % weakness followed. Then 
came the wintry gloom and passive listlessness of despair. The 
young men quitted their places of industry to mourn with their 
fathers, and all classes abandoned themselves for a season to 
the pressure of their wo. 

The curtain now rises, and reveals the first appearance of 

* Verdure, green color. % Outraged, treated with abuse or riolence 

t Debilitated, weakened. 

12* 



138 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

Revolution. A man stands upon the floor of the House of 
Delegates of Virginia. He turns an eye of fire around him — he 
trembles with some mighty emotion. That emotion, * * *, 
was the first breath of new-born Liberty ! She started into life 
at his inspiration, and the days of Tyranny were numbered ! 

The grandeur of that scene cannot be compassed* in one 
glance. He stood amid a grave and prudent body of men, 
conscious indeed of the wrongs of their country, but relying 
upon modest petition for redress. They had never let their 
imaginations ramble into visions of upright and chainless 
Independence. A thousand things forbade the idea. Their 
habits of thought and action, their pitiable weakness as a 
country, their disgust for war on account of recent and ex- 
hausting conflicts, all tended to indispose them for Freedom. 
They were, besides, legislating beneath the zealous eyes of 
royal deputies, who would not fail to call treason by its right 
name. They sat, as it were, under the glimmerings of the 
diadem. 

Who would dare, if so inclined, to stalk forth from their 
midst and throw down the gauntletf to the mightiest empire 
of the world — nay, to all the empires of the world — to prin- 
ciples as old as the great globe itself, interwoven with every 
page of past history, sanctioned by venerable ages, and proud 
and awful as the heavens ? Who would dare to leap on the 
moss-grown and frowning ramparts of Monarchy, and pluck 
down its blood-red flag ? Who would rush out from the 
security of submission, and, Sampson-like, grasp the lion by 
his mane ? It was the grandest moment of time — but God had 
reared up one to fill it. That man was Patrick Henry. 

I will not tarry upon a scene where History has so often 
lingered, and always with a solemnity bordering on tho 
superstitious. I would it never had been detailed, but rathe* 
left to the imagination of posterity. I had rather the attitude 
gesture, look, tone, position and costume of the god-like orator 
had never been matters of precise description. It serves too 
much (pardon my extravagance) to familiarize him down tp 
the level of humanity. The Patrick Henry of that occasion 
should have been committed to the homage of Fancy. 

* Ctmpassed. surrounded, fully viewed. f Throw down the gauntlet, to challenge 



ELOCUTION MADE IS? 



139 



I will close with but a word. He opened his lips. His 
heart, big with the destinies of the world, struggled for a 
moment with doubt — no longer. The electric appeal shot 
forth — darted on — flashing fiercer and brighter, and growing 
and growing in overwhelming majesty, until the last words — 
" Give me Liberty oh give me Death !" — filled up its measure 
of terrible might ; and the last link of the chain that had eternal- 
ly bound the form of Freedom was riven. He had finished his 
sublime task, the Revolution was afoot ! 



NINETY-FIRST LESSON. 

the disembodied spirit. — Wm. O. B. Peabody. 

Oh ! sacred star of evening, tell 
In what unseen celestial* spheref 
Those spirits of the perfect dwell, 
Too pure to rest in sadness here. 

Roam they the crystal fields of light, 
O'er paths by holy angels trod ; 
Their robes with heavenly lustre bright 
Their home the paradise of God ? 

Soul of the just ! and canst thou soar 
Amid those radiant spheres sublime, 
Where countless hosts of heaven adore, 
Beyond the bounds of space or time ? 

And canst thou join the sacred choir, 
Through heaven's high dome the song to raise, 
When seraphs strike the golden lyre. 
In ever-during notes of praise ? 

Oh ! who would heed the chilling blast, 
That flows o'er time's eventful sea, 
If bid to hail, its perils past, 
The bright wave of eternity ? 

* Celestial, heavenly f Sphere, globe, orb. 



140 SELECTIONS FOR READING 

And who the sorrows would not bear 
Of such a transient* world as this, 
When hope displays, beyond its care, 
So bright an entrance into bliss ? 



NINETY-SECOND LESSON. 
COLONEL ISAAC HAYNES. 

After the city of Charleston had fallen into the hands of 
Lord Cornwallis,f his lordship issued a proclamation, requiring 
of the inhabitants of the colony that they should no longer take 
part in the contest, but continue peaceably at their homes, and 
they should be most sacredly protected in property and person 

This was accompanied with an instrument of neutrality, 
which soon obtained the signatures of many thousands of tae 
citizens of South Carolina, among whom was Colonel Haynes, 
who now conceived that he was entitled to peace and security 
for his family and fortune. 

But it was not long before Cornwallis put a new construc- 
tion on the instrument of neutrality, denominating it a bond of 
allegiance^ to the king, and called upon all who had signed it to 
take up arms against the Rebels ! threatening to treat as desert- 
ers those who refused ! This fraudulent proceeding of Lord 
Cornwallis roused the indignation of every honorable and 
honest man. 

Colonel Haynes now being compelled, in violation of the 
most solemn compact, to take up arms, resolved that the 
invaders of his native country should be the objects of his 
vengeance. He withdrew from the British, and was invested 
with a command in the continental service ; but it was soon 
his hard fortune to be captured by the enemy and carried into 
Charleston. 

Lord Rawdon, the commandant, immediately ordered him to 
be loaded with irons, and after a sort of mock trial, he was 
sentenced to be hung ! This sentence seized all classes of 
people with horror and dismay. A petition, headed by the 

* Transient, passing away. J Allegiance, duty of a subject to his king. 

T Lord Cornwallis, a British commander 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 141 

British Governor Bull, and signed by a number of royalists, was 
presented in his behalf, but was totally disregarded. 

Tne ladies of Charleston, both whigs and tories, now united 
in a petition to Lord Rawdon, couched in the most eloquent 
and moving language, praying that the valuable life of Colonel 
Haynes might be spared ; but this also was treated with neglect 
It was next proposed that Colonel Haynes's children (the 
mother- had recently deceased) should, in their mourning 
habiliments,* be presented to plead for the life of their only 
surviving parent. 

Being introduced into his presence, they fell on their knees, 
and with clasped hands and weeping eyes they lisped their 
father's name and pleaded most earnestly for his life, but in 
vain : the unfeeling man was still inexorable ! His son, a youth 
of thirteen, was permitted to sta>-with his father in prison, 
who beholding his only parent loaded with irons and con- 
demned to die, was overwhelmed in grief and sorrow. 

" Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break your father's 
heart with unavailing sorrow ? Have I not often told you we 
came into this world to prepare for a better ? For that better 
life, my dear boy, your father is prepared. Instead then of 
weeping, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so 
near an end. To-morrow I set out for immortality. You will 
accompany me to the place of my execution, and, when I am 
dead, take and bury me by the side of your mother." 

The youth here fell on his father's neck, crying, " my 
father ! my father ! 1 will die with you ! I will die with you !" 
Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong embrace of his 
son, but, alas ! his hands were confined with irons. " Live," 
said he, " my son, live to honor God by a good life, live to 
serve your country ; and live to take care of your little sisters 
and brother !" 

The next morning Colonel Haynes was conducted to the 
place of execution. His son accompanied him. Soon as they 
came in sight of the gallows, the father strengthened himself, 
and said — " Now, my son, show yourself a man ! That tree is the 
boundary of my life, and of all my life's sorrows. Beyond that the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Don't lay too 

* Habiliments, dresses 



142 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

much to heart our separation from you ; it will be but short. It was but 
Mtely your dear mother died. To-day 1 die, and you, my son, though 
but young, must shortly follow us." " Yes, my father," replied the 
broken-hearted youth, " I shall shortly follow you ; for indeed 
I feel that I cannot live long." 

On seeing therefore his father in the hands of the executioner,* 
and then struggling in the halter, — he stood like one trans- 
fixedf and motionless with horror. Till then he had wept in- 
cessantly, but as soon as he saw that sight, the fountain of his 
tears was stanched, and he never wept more. He died insane, 
and in his last moments often called on the name of his father 
in terms that wrung tears from the hardest hearts. 



NINETY-THIRD LESSON. 
SPIRIT OF FREEDOM. PerCWdL 

Spirit of Freedom ! who thy home hast made 
In wilds and wastes, where wealth has never trod, 
Nor bowed her coward head before her god, 
The sordid deity of fraudful trade ; 
Where power has never reared his iron brow, 
And glared his glance of terror, nor has blown 
The maddening trump of battle, nor has flown 
His blood-thirst eagles ; where no flatterers bow, 
And kiss the foot that spurns them ; where no throne, 
Bright with the spoils from nations wrested, towers, 
The idol of a slavish mob, who herd, 
Where largess feeds their sloth with golden showers* 
And thousands hang upon one tyrant's word — 

Spirit of Freedom ! thou, who dwell'st alone, 
Unblenched4 unyielding, on the storm-beat shore, 
And findest a stirring music in its roar, 
And lookest abroad on earth and sea thy own- 
Far from the city's noxious§ hold, thy foot 
Fleet as the wild deer bounds, as if its breath 

* Executioner, one who puts to death by law. % Unblenched, unshrinking, 
f Transfixed, pierced through. § Noxious, hurtful, destructive 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 143 

Were but the rankest, foulest steam of death , 

Its soil were but the dunghill, where the root 

Of every poisonous weed and baleful tree 

Grew vigorously and deeply, till their shade 

Had choked and killed each wholesome plant, and laid 

In rottenness the flower of Liberty — 

Thou fliest to the desert, and its sands 

Become thy welcome shelter, where the pure 

Wind gives its freshness to thy roving bands, 

And languid "weakness finds its only cure ; 

Where few their wants, and bounded their desires, 

And life all spring and action, they display 

Man's boldest flights, and highest, warmest fires, 

And beauty wears her loveliest array — 

Spirit of Freedom ! I would with thee dwell, 
Whether on Afric's sand, or Norway's crags, 
Or Kansa's prairies,* for thou lovest them well, 
And there thy boldest daring never flags ; 
Or I would launch with thee upon the deep, 
And like the petrelf make the wave my home, 
And careless as the sportive sea-bird roam ; 
Or with the chamoisj on the Alp would leap, 
And feel myself upon the snow-clad height, 
A portion of that undimmed flow of light, 
No mist nor cloud can darken — ! with thee. 
Spirit of Freedom ! deserts, mountains, storms. 
Would wear a glow of beauty, and their forms 
Would soften into loveliness, and be 
Dearest of earth, — for there my soul is free 
— — ■ ' — ■ — — — — i^^» -—j* 

* Prairies, extensive tracts of land destitute of trees. 

t Petrel, a water fowl. 

% Chamois (pronounced Shamoy), a kind of goat. 



'44 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



NINETY-FOURTH LESSON. 
LAKES AND THE OCEAN G. Melletl. 

There is ever a contrast between the lesser lakes and the 
great ocean. You can rarely, if ever, look upon the sea, when 
it is not heaving with the coming on, the height, or the dying 
of the tempest. There is always agitation within its mighty 
bosom. You see something at work there that tells of perpe- 
tual* unrestf — of a power within, that cannot be still. The sub- 
siding thunder of the storm that has passed away, is but the 
deep prelusivej music of another. 

But go in midsummer to the lake, embosomed§ among the 
hills, and gaze upon it when all the elements are in slumber, 
and I know not that you will find in nature a more beautiful 
picture of repose. There is no heaving billow there — no crest- 
ed wave breaking in foam upon the shore — no sound of de- 
parted storm, murmuring like some vast imprisoned spirit at its 
temporary subjection. But you see there a surface, silent as 
death — and as placid. The water lies spread before you, a 
perfect mirror ; and you see wooded summit and lonely vale 
— forest and field-tree and tower — cloud and sky, all gazing 
into its profound, as though enchanted with the loveliness of 
their own reflection. You see the beautiful and the grand 
mingling their wonders in solitude, and you feel how much 
more exquisite is the display, when it is perfected in the hour 
and home of Nature's quietness. 

Then, if you stand upon bank or shore at sunset, when its 
hundred hues are playing on the sky, and see the new heaven 
created in the depths below you, and witness its mockery of 
splendor, its lading colors and dying beams, till star begins to 
answer to star in the dark water, surely you are beholding 
something that Nature presents only in such hallowed spots in 
her empire — something of beauty and grandeur that she can 
never offer by the " vasty deep," — something — be it developed 
' where it may, far beyond the witchery of the gifted pencil — 
something to rejoice in — something to be thankful for. 

* Perpetual, continual, never ceasing. i Prelusive, previous, serving to introduce 
t Unrest, disquiet. $ Embosomed enclosed. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 145 



NINETY-FIFTH LESSON. 

MARCO BOZZARIS. Halleck. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power. 
In dreams through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies* of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signetf ring, 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentry's^ shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek V* 
He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 

And death shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
•• Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 

God — and your native land !" 

They fought — like brave men, long and well, 
They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 

They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 
Bleeding at every vein. 

* Trophies, things taken in battle from an enemy. % Sentry, a soldier on guard 
t Signet ring, a ring containing the king's seal. 

13 



I {Q SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

His few surviving comrades saw 

His smile when rang the proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 



NINETY-SIXTH LESSON. 
SUBLIMITY OP MOUNTAIN SCENERY. Cfoly. 

Of all the sights that nature offers to the eye and mind of 
man, mountains have always stirred my strongest feelings. I 
have seen the Ocean, when it was turned up from the bottom 
by tempest, and noon was like night, with the conflict of the 
billows and the storm, that tore and scattered them in mist and 
foam across the sky. I have seen the Desert rise around me, 
and calmly, in the midst of thousands uttering cries of horror 
and paralyzed by fear, have contemplated the sandy pillars, 
coming like the advance of some gigantic city of conflagration 
flying across the wilderness, every column glowing with in- 
tense fire, and every blast death; the sky vaulted with gloom, 
the earth a furnace. 

But with me, the mountain — in tempest or in calm, the throne 
of the thunder, or with the evening sun painting its delist and 
declivities^ in colors dipped in heaven — has been the source of 
the most absorbing sensations. — There stands magnitude, giv- 
ing the instant impression of a power above man — grandeur, 
that defies decay — antiquity, that tells of ages unnumbered — 
beauty, that the touch of time makes only more beautiful — use, 
exhaustless for the service of man — strength, imperishable as 
the globe ; — the monument of eternity, — the truest earthly em- 
blem of that ever-living, unchangeable, irresistible Majesty, by 
whom and for whom, all things were made ! 

* Paralyzed, deprived of motion. % Declivities, descents, slopes. 

t Delia, valleys. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 147 



NINETY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, alter 
a long absence from my native village, 1 stood beside the 
sacred mound, beneath which I had seen her buried. Since 
that mournful period, great changes have come over me. My 
childish years have passed away ; and with them have passed 
my youthful character. The world was altered too ; and as I 
stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was 
the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheek she so 
often kissed in her excess of tenderness. 

But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the 
remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had 
seen her yesterday — as if the blessed sound of her voice was 
then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood 
were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that had it not 
been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have 
been gentle and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a 
trifling one ; but the thought of it, even now, agonizes my 
heart— and I relate it that those who have parents to love them, 
may learn to value them as they ought. 

My mother had been ill a long time ; and I had become so 
much accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was 
not frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is 
true, I had sobbed violently — for they told me that she would 
die ; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and 
found her the same, I began to believe she would always be 
spared to me. 

One day when I had lost my place in the class, and done 
my work wrong-side-outward, I came home discouraged and 
fretful. I went into my mother's chamber. She was paler 
than usual, — but she met me with the same affectionate smile 
that always welcomed my return. Alas ! when I look bacli 
through the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have 
been stone, not to have been melted by it. 

She requested me to go down stairs, and bring her a glas^ 
of water. I pettishly asked why she did not call the domestic 
to do it. With a look of mild reproach, which I shall never 



*48 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

forget, if I live to be a hundred years old, she said, " And will not 
my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" 

I went and brought her the water ; but I did not do it kindly. 
Instead of smiling, and kissing her as I was wont to do, I set 
the glass down very quick and left the room. 

After playing a short time, I retired without bidding my 
mother " good night ;" but when alone in my room, in darkness 
and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her 
faint voice trembled, when she said, «* Will not my daughter 
bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" I could not 
sleep ; and I stole into her chamber, to ask forgiveness. She 
had just sunk into an uneasy slumber; and they told me I must 
not waken her. I did not tell any one what troubled me ; but 
stole back to my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and 
tell her how sorry I was for my conduct. 

The sim was shining brightly when I awoke, and hurrying 
on my clothes, 1 hastened to my mother's room. 

She was dead! She never spoke to me more — never smiled 
upon me again ! And when I touched the hand that used to 
rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold it made me start. 
I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my 
heart. I thought then I wished I could die, and be buried with 
her ; and old as I now am, I -would give worlds, were they 
mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she 
forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back ; 
and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her 
manifold* kindness, the memory of the reproachful look she 
gave me, will " bite like a serpent and sting like an adder." 



NINETY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

U I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY." W. Cutter, 

" It is true there are shadows as well as lights, clouds as well as sunshine, thorns 
as well as roses ; but it is a happy world after all." 

" I would not live alway !" — yet 'tis not that here 
There's nothing to live for, and nothing to love ; 

The cup of life's blessings, though mingled with tears, 
Is crowned with rich tokens of good from above : 

* Manifold, oft repeated. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 149 

And dark though the storms of adversity rise, 
Though changes dishearten, and dangers appal, 

Each hath its high purpose, both gracious and wise, 
And a Father's kind providence rules over all. 

" I would not live alway !" and yet, oh, to die ! 

With a shuddering thrill how it palsies the heart ! 
We may love, we may pant for, the glory on high, 

Yet tremble and grieve from earth's kindred to part. 
There are ties of deep tenderness drawing us down, 

Which warm round the heart-strings their tendrils will 
weave ; 
And Faith, reaching forth for her heavenly crown, 

Still lingers, embracing the friends she must leave. 

" I would not live alway !" because I am sure 

There's a better, a holier rest in the sky ; 
And the hope that looks forth to that heavenly shore, 

Overcomes timid nature's reluctance to die. 

visions of glory, of bliss, and of love, 
Where sin cannot enter, nor passion enslave, 

Ye have power o'er the heart, to subdue or remove 
The sharpness of death, and the gloom of the grave ! 

♦* I would not live alway !" yet 'tis not that time, 

Its loves, hopes, and friendships, cares, duties, and joys. 
Yield nothing exalted, nor pure, nor sublime, 

The heart to delight, or the soul to employ ; 
No ! an angel might oftentimes sinlessly dwell 

'Mid the innocentrscenes to life's pilgrimage given , 
And though passion and folly can make earth a hell, 

To the pure 'tis the emblem and gate-way of heaven. 

" I would not live alway !" and yet, while I stay 
In this Eden of time, 'mid these gardens of earth, 

I'd enjoy the sweet flowers and fruits as I may, 

And gain with their treasures whate'er they are worth • 

1 would live, as if life were a part of my heaven, 

I would love, as if love were a part of its bliss, 
And I'd take the sweet comforts, so lavishly given, 
As foretastes of that world, in portions, in this 
13* 



150 SELECTIONS FOR REArinC 

" I would not live alway !" yet willingly wait, 

Be it longer or shorter, life's journey to roam, 
Ever ready and girded, with spirits elate, 

To obey the first call that shall summon me home 
yes ' it is better, far better to go 

Where pain, sin, and sorrow can never intrude ; 
And yet I would cheerfully tarry below, 

And expecting the better, rejoice hi the good. 



NINETY-NINTH LESSON. 

knowledge. — De Witt Clinton. 

Pleasure is a shadow, wealth is vanity, and power a 
pageant ;* but knowledge is ecstaticf in enjoyment, perennial} 
in fame, unlimited in space, and infinite in duration. In the 
performance of its sacred office, it fears no danger, spares no 
expense, omits no exertion. It scales the mountain, looks 
; nto the volcano, dives into the ocean; perforates§ the earth, 
wings its flight into the skies, encircles the globe, explores the 
*ea and land, contemplates the distant, examines the minute, 
comprehends the great, ascends to the sublime : no place too 
-emote for its grasp, no heavens too exalted for its reach 



ONE HUNDREDTH LESSON. 
MOONLIGHT AND A FIELD OF BATTLE. Shelley. 

How beautiful this night ! the balmiest sigh 

Which vernal 1 1 zephyrs breathe in Evening's air, 

Were discord to the speaking quietude 

That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon^ vault, 

Studded with stars unutterably bright, 

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, 

Seems like a canopy** which Love had spread, 

* Pageant, a pompous show. || Vernal, belonging to spring. 

t Ecstatic, transporting, very delightful. IT Ebon, dark. 

t Perennial, durable, continual. ** Canopy, a covering spread over the head 

$ Perforates bores or pierces through 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 151 

To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, 

Robed in a garment of untrodden snow ; 

Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, 

So stainless-, that their white and glittering spires 

Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castled steep. 

Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower 

So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it 

A metaphor* of peace ; — all form a scene 

Where musing Solitude might love to lift 

Her soul above this sphere of earthliness ; 

Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone, 

So cold, so bright, so still ! 

The orb of day, 
In southern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field 
Sinks sweetly smiling : not the faintest breath 
Steals o'er the unruffled deep ; the clouds of eve 
Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day ; 
And Vesper'sf image on the western main 
Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes : 
Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, 
Roll o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar 
Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; 
Tempest unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom 
That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend, 
With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey ; 
The torn deep yawns — the vessel finds a grave 
Beneath its jaggedj gulf. 

Ah ! whence yon glare 
That fires the arch of heaven ? — that dark red smoke 
Bloating the silver moon ? The stars are quenched 
In darkness, and the pure spangling snow 
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round ! 
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals 
In countless echoes through the mountains ring, 
Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne! 
Nor swells the intermingling din ; the jar, 
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb ; 

* Metaphor, a similitude, resemblance. t Jagged, notched, uneven 

\ Vesper, the evening star, Venus. 



152 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

The falling beam, the. shriek, the groan, the shout, 
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men 
Inebriate with rage ! — loud and more loud 
The discord grows ; till pale Death shuts the scene, 
And, o'er the conqueror and the conquered, draws 
His cold and bloody shroud. Of all the men 
Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, 
Tn proud and vigorous health — of all the hearts 
That beat with anxious life at sunset there — 
How few survive, how few are beating now ! 
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm 
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; 
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love 
Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan 
With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay 
Wrapped round its struggling powers. 

The grey morn 
Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous smoke 
Before the icy wind slow rolls away, 
And the bright beams of frosty morning dance 
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood, 
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, 
And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments 
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path 
Of the outsallying victors : far behind 
Black ashes note where their proud city stood 
Within yon forest is a gloomy glen — 
Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, 
Waves o'er a warrior's tomb. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIRST LESSON. 
ABSALOM.— WilllS. 

The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 

On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 

Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 

Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 

The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 153 

With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, 

Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, 

Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, 

Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, 

And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 

How strikingly the course of nature tells, 

By its light heed of human suffering, 

That it was fashioned for a happier world ! 

King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 

From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, 

With his faint people, for a little rest 

Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 

Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 

To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 

The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 

That he could see his people until now. 

They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, 

And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 

Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, 

And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 

Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 

Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 

And the poor common words of courtesy 

Are such a very mockery — how much 

The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer! 

He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 

Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 

Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep tones 

Grew tremulous. But, oh, for Absalom — 

For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 

The proud, bright being, who had burst away, 

In all his princely beauty, to defy 

The heart that cherished him — for him he poured,' 

In agony that would not be controlled, 

Strong supplication, and forgave him there, 

Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 
******* 

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds 



154 SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed 

The matchless symmetry* of Absalom. 

His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 

Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 

To the admitted air, as glossy now 

As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 

The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. 

His helm was at his feet : his banner, soiled 

With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid 

Reversed, beside him ; and the ]ewelled hiit, 

Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, 

Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow. 

The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, 

Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, 

The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, 

And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 

As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 

A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 

As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 

Of David entered, and he gave command, 

In a low tone, to his few followers, 

And left him with his dead. The king stood stil* 

Till the last echo died : then, throwing off 

The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 

The pall from the still features of his child, 

He bowed nis head upon him, and broke forth 

In the resistless eloquence of wo ! — 

" Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! 

Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 

And leave his stillness in this clustering hair . 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 

My proud boy, Absalom ! 

" Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, 
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee 

How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill 

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, 

* Symmetry, proportion 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 15! 

Ind hear thy sweet « my father'' from these dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom ! 

" The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush 

Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; — 
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 

To meet me, Absalom ! 

" And, oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 

How will its love for thee, as I depart, 
Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token ! 

it were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
To see thee, Absalom ! 

•' And now, farewell ! 'T is hard to give thee up, 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee : — 

And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, 
If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. 

May God have called thee, like a wanderer, hem* . 
My erring Absalom !" 

He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child : then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
And, as a strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently, and left him there, 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 



156 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND LESSON. 
THE NEW ROOF : 

A SONG FOR FEDERAL MECHANICS. 

Come muster, ray lads, your mechanical tools, 
Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules ; 
Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line, 
And plenty of pins of American pine : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
Our government firm, and our citizens free. 

Come up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall, 

Like the people at large, they're the ground-work of all ; 

Examine them well, and see that they're sound, 

Let no rotten part in our building be found : 

For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 

A government firm, and our citizens free. 

Now hand up the girders, lay each in its place, 
Between them the joists must divide all the space ; 
Like assembly-men, these should lie level along, 
Like the girders, our senate prove loyal and strong : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
A government firm, and our citizens free. 

The rafters now frame ; your king-posts and braces, 
And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places ; 
Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine, 
And your pins be all made of American pine : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
Laws equal and just, for a people that's free. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 15 1 

Our ling-posts are judges ; how upright they stand, 
Supporting the braces ; the laws of the land : 
The laws of the land which divide right from wrong, 
And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
Laws equal and just for a people thafs free. 

Up ! up ! with the rafters ; each frame is a state ! 
How nobly they rise ! their span, too, how great ! 
From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend, 
And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
Combined in strength, yet as citizens fr&e. 

Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through, 
And see that your joints are drawn home and all true, 
The purlins will bind all the rafters together : 
The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather : 
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
United as states, but as citizens free. 

Come, raise up the turret, our glory and pride : 
In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside : 
The sons of Columbia shall view with delight, 
Its pillars and arches, and towering height : 
Our roof is now raised, and our song still shall be 
A federal head oi'er a people that's free. 

Huzza ! my brave boys, our work is complete ; 

The world shall admire Columbia's fair feat ; 

Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof, 

And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof; 

Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be, 

Our government firm, and our citizens free, 



158 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD LESSON. 

WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN. — /. Q. Adams. 

Section 1. 

1. The sword of Washington | and the staff of Franklin ! 
What associations | are linked in adamant | with those names ! 
Washington, the warrior of human freedom — Washington | 
whose sword was never drawn | but in the cause of his coun- 
try, and never sheathed | when wielded in her name ! Franklin, 
the philosopher of the thunder-bolt, the printing-press, and the 
plow- share ! Washington and Franklin ! What names are 
these | in the scanty catalogue of the benefactors of mankind ! 
What other two men, whose lives belong | to the eighteenth 
century of Christendom, have left a deeper impression of them- 
selves | upon all after time ? 

2. Washington, the warrior and legislator ! In war, contend- 
ing by the wager of battle | for the independence of his coun- 
try, and for the freedom | of the human race ; ever manifesting, 
amid its horrors, his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the 
tenderest sympathies | of humanity. In peace, soothing the 
ferocious spirit of discord | into harmony and union, and giving 
to that very sword | now presented to his country | a charm 
more potent | than that attributed | in ancient times | to the 
lyre of Orpheus. 

Section 2. 

3. Franklin, the mechanic of his own fortunes, in early youth, 
teaching | under the shackles of indigence | the way to wealth, 
and | in the shade of obscurity | the path to greatness : in the 
maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder | of its terrors, the 
lightning | of its fatal blast, and wresting from the tyrants | the 
still .more afflictive sceptre of oppression : while descending into 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 159 

the vale of years, traversing the Atlantic, bearing in his hand | 
the Charter of Independence, and tendering | to the mightiest 
monarchs of Europe | the olive branch of peace, the mercurial 
wand of commerce, and the amulet of protection and safety | to 
the man of peace | on the pathless ocean, from the inexorable 
cruelty | and the merciless rapacity of war. 

4. And finally | in the last stage of life, with four score win- 
ters | upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease, 
returning to his native land, closing his days as the chief magis- 
trate | of his adopted Commonwealth | after contributing | by 
his counsels | under the presidency of Washington, and record- 
ing his name | to that Constitution | under the authority of 
which | we are here assembled to receive these venerable re- 
lics | of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders | of our great 
confederated Republic — these sacred symbols of our golden age. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH LESSON. 
LOVE AND MURDER. — AnOU* 

In Manchester a maiden dwelt, 
Her name was Phoebe Brown ; 
Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, 
And she was considered by good judges to 
be by all odds, the best looking girl in town. 

Her age was nearly seventeen, 

Her eyes were sparkling bright ; 

A very lovely girl she was, 

And for about a year and a half there had 
been a young man paying his attention to her, by the name of 
Reuben Wright. 



Mercurial — Active, powerful. 

Wand — A staff of authority. 

Amulet — Something worn to protect from evil. 



160 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Now Reuben was a nice young man, 

As any in the town, 

And Phoebe loved him very dear, 

But on account of his being obliged to 
work for a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old 
Mr. and Mrs. Brown. 

Her parents were resolved 

Another she should wed, 

A rich old miser in the place, 

And old Brown frequently declared, that 
rather than have his daughter marry Reuben "Wright, he'd sooner 
Enock him in the head. 

But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, 

She feared not her parent's frowns ; 

And as for Reuben Wright so bold, 

I've heard him say more than fifty times 
that, (with the exception of Phoebe) he didn't care a cent for the 
whole race of Browns. 

So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright 

Determined they would marry ; 

Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, 

They started for old Parson Webster's, determined 
to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was 
tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 

But Captain Brown was Wide awake, 

He loaded up his gun, 

And then pursued the loving pair ; 

He overtook 'em when they'd got about half way 
to the parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon 
the run. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 161 

Old Brown then took a deadly aim 

Toward young Reuben's head ; 

But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, 

He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, 
and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down 
stone dead. 

Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, 

And vengeance crazed his brain, 

He drew an awful jack-knife out 

And plunged it into old Brown about 
fifty or sixty times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever 
coming to again. 

The briny drops from Reuben's eyes 

In torrents pour-ed down, — 

And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner 
terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old 
Captain Brown. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH LESSON. 
A crusader's SONG. — Anonymous. 

1 . To arms ! to arms ! for the truce is out, 
The Christian's trump and the Moslem's shout, 
Like the distant moan of roaring seas, 

Is borne aloft on the morning breeze ; 
Then awake, sir knight, for the foe is near, 
And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 

2. The tents are struck, and the cross display 'd, 
In armor bright each knight is arrayed. 

The pointed lance and the polish'd shield 
Like meteors flash o'er the battle field : 



162 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Then arise, sir knight, for the foe is near, 
And the sunbeams glitter on Jance and spear. 

3. Hark ! 'tis the crush of the Moslem band, 
Where the crescent waves o'er the Holy Land, 
Their hands are dy'd, their swords are red 
With the crimson gore of Christians dead ; 
Then to arms, sir knight, for the foe is near, 
And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 

4. Haste, haste away, for thou know'st, sir knight, 
Yon wreath is won by the first in fight ; 

'Twas made by the warmest, fairest hand, 
That e'er was seen in Christian land ; 
Then to horse, to horse, for the foe is near, 
And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 

5. The trumpet sounds — then on to the field, 
Yon Moslem host to the cross must yield ; 
Then linger not — to the charge away, 

For battle rage is a warrior's play ; 

On, on, sir knight, for the foe is near, 

And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 



ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTH LESSON. 

AMERICAN FREEDOM. — MdXCy. 

Section 1. 

The citizens of America | celebrate that day | which gave 
birth to their liberties. The recollection of this event, replete 
with consequences | so beneficial to mankind, swells every heart 
with joy | and fills every tongue with praise. We celebrate not 
the sanguinary exploits of a tyrant | to subjugate and enslave 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 163 

millions | of his fellow men ; we celebrate neither the birth | 
nor the coronation of that phantom styled a king ; but the re- 
surrection of liberty, the emancipation of mankind, the regenera- 
tion of the world. These | are the sources of our joy, these | 
the causes of our triumph. We pay no homage | at the tomb 
of kings, to sublime our feelings — we trace no line of illustrious 
ancestors, to support our dignity | we recur to no usages | sanc- 
tioned by the authority of the great, to protect s our rejoicing; — 
no, we love liberty, we glory in the rights o f men, we glory in 
independence. On whatever part of God's creation | a human 
form pines under chains, there | Americans drop their tears. 

Section 2. 
A dark cloud | once shaded this beautiful quarter of the globe. 
Consternation | for awhile | agitated the hearts | of the inhabit- 
ants. War | desolated our fields, and buried our vales | in 
blood. But the dayspring from on high soon opened upon us | 
its glittering portals. The angel of liberty | descending, drop- 
ped on Washington's brow | the wreath of victory, and stamped 
on American freedom | the seal of omnipotence. The darkness 
is past, and the true light | now shines to enliven and rejoice 
mankind. We tread a new earth, in which dwelleth righteous- 
ness ; and view a new heaven, flaming with inextinguishable 
stars. Our feet will no more descend | into the vale of oppres- 
sions ; our shoulders will no more bend | under the weight of a 
foreign domination | as cruel as it was unjust. Well may we re- 
joice | at the return of this glorious anniversary ; a day | dear to 
every American ; a day | to be had in everlasting remembrance; 
a day | whose light circulates joy | through the hearts | of all 
republicans, and terror through the hearts of all tyrants. 



Consternation — Dread, fear. 
Portals — Gates. 

Inextinguishable — That cannot be put out. 

Anniversary — A day on every year on which an event is cele- 
brated, 



164 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTH LESSON. 

LYCEUM SPEECH OF MR. ORATOR CLIMAX. — Anon. 

Mr. President. Happiness is like a crow perched upon the 
neighboring top of a far distant mountain, which some fisher- 
man vainly strives, to no purpose, to ensnare. He looks at the 
crow, Mr. President, — and — Mr. President, the crow looks at 
him ; and, sir, they both look at each other. But the moment 
he attempts to reproach him, he banishes away like the schis- 
matic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which, it was the 
astonishing and perspiring genius of a Newton, who first de- 
plored and enveloped the cause of it. Can not the poor man, 
sir, precipitate into all the beauties of nature, from the loftiest 
mounting up to the most humblest valley, as well as the man 
prepossessed of indigence ? Yes, sir ; while the trilling trans- 
ports crown his view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary 
youth, he can raise his mind up to the laws of nature, incom- 
pressible as they are, while viewing the lawless storm that kind- 
leth up the tremenjious roaring thunder, and fireth up the dark 
and rapid lightnings, and causeth it to fly through the intensity 
of space, that belches forth those awful and sublime meteors, 
and roll — a bolly — aliases, through the unfathomable regions of 
fiery hemispheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lovely retreat, 
beneath the shadowy shades of an umbrageous tree, at whose 
venal foot flows some limping stagnant stream, he gathers around 
him his wife and the rest of his orphan children. He there 
takes a retrospective view upon the diagram of futurity, and 
casts his eye like a flashing meteor forward into the past. Seated 
in their midst, aggravated and exhaled by the dignity and inde- 
pendence coincident with honorable poverty, his countenance 
irrigated with an intense glow of self deficiency and excommu- 
nicated knowledge, he quietly turns to instruct his little assem- 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 165 

blage. He therefore endeavors to distil into their young 
youthful minds, useless lessons to guard their juvenile youths 
against vice and immortality. There, on a clear sunny evening, 
when the silvery moon is shining forth in all her indulgence 
and ubiquity, he teaches the first sediments of gastronomy, by 
pointing out to them the bear, the lion, and many other fixed in- 
visible consternations, which are continually involving upon their 
axle-trees, through the blue cerulean fundamus above. From this 
vast ethereal he dives with them to the very bottom of the 
unfathomable ocean, bring up from thence liquid treasures of 
earth and air. He then courses with them on the imaginable 
wing of fancy through the boundless regions of unimaginable 
ether, until swelling into impalpable immensity, he is for ever lost 
in the infinite radiation of his own overwhelming genius. 



ONE HUNDKED AND EIGHTH LESSON. 

WILLIAM TELL IN THE FIELD OF GRUTLI. — Knowks. 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! 

I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 

To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 

A spirit in your echoes answer me, 

And bid your tenant welcome to his home 

Again ! — sacred forms, how proud you look ! 

How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 

How huge you are ! how mighty and how free ! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile 

Makes glad — whose frown is terrible — whose forms 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I'm with you once again ! — I call to you 

With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, 

To show they still are free. I rush to you 

As though I could embrace you ! 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Scaling yonder peak, 
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 
O'er the abyss : his broad expanded wings 
Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 
As if he floated there without their aid, 
By the sole act of his unlorded will, 
That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 
I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still 
His airy circle, as in the delight 
Of measuring the ample range beneath 
And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not 
The death that threatened him. I could not shoot !- 
'Twas liberty ! — I turned by bow aside, 
And let him soar away. 



ONE HUNDRED AND NINTH LESSON. 
our country. — Webster. 

Our proper business is improvement. Let our age be the 
age of improvement. In a day of peace, let as advance the 
arts of peace and the works of peace. Let us develope the re- 
sources of our land, call forth its powers, build up its institutions, 
promote all its great interests, and see whether we also, in our day 
and generation, may not perform something worthy to be remem- 
bered. Let us cultivate a true spirit of union and harmony. 
In pursuing the great object which our condition points to us, 
let us act under a settled conviction, and an habitual feeling, 

Develope — unfold, bring out. 
Resources — means. 
Promote — advance. 
Harmony — agreement. 
Conviction — belief 
Habitual — constant. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 161 

that these twenty-four states are one country. Let our concep- 
tions be enlarged to the circle of our duties. Let us extend our 
ideas over the whole of the vast field in which we are called to 
act. Let our object be our country, our whole country, 
and nothino but our country. And by the blessing of God, 
may that country itself become a vast and splendid Monument, 
not of oppression and terror, but of Wisdom, of Peace, and of 
Liberty, upon which the world may gaze, with admiration, for 
ever. 

ONE HUNDRED AND TENTH LESSON. 
RHINE SONG OF THE ROMAN SOLDIERS AFTER 

victory. — Mrs. Hemans. 

Single Voice. 
It is the Rhine ! our mountain vineyards laving ; 

I see the bright flood shine ; 
Sing on the march, with every banner waving, 

Sing, brothers ! 'tis the Rhine ! 

Chorus. 
The Rhine, the Rhine ! our own imperial river ! 

Be glory on thy track ! 
We left thy shores, to die or to deliver 

We bear thee freedom back. 

Single Voice. 
Hail ! hail ! My childhood knew thy rush of water, 

Even as my mother's song ; 
That sound went past me on the field of slaughter, 

And heart and arm grew strong. 



Conceptions — ideas. 

Monument — anything to continue remembrance. 



168 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Chorus. 
Roll proudly on ! Brave blood is with thee sweeping, 

Poured out by sons of thine, 
When sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping, 

Like thee, victorious Rhine ! 

Single Voice. 
Home ! home : — thy glad wave bath a tone of greeting- 

Tby path is by my home : 
Even now my children count the hours, till meeting. 

O ransomed ones, I come. 

Chorus. 
Go, tell the seas tbat cbain shall bind thee never 

Sound on, by hearth and shrine ; 
Sing through the hills that thou art free for ever ; 

Lift up thy voice, Rhine ! 

OND HUNDRED AND ELEVENTH LESSON. 

THE MECHANICS' SONG. 

Ye merry mechanics, come join in my song, 
And let your brisk chorus come bounding- along ; 
Tho' some perhaps poor, and some rich there may be, 
Yet all are united, happy and free. 

Ye tailors of ancient and noble renown, 
Who clothe all the people in country and town ; 
Remember that Adam (your father and head) 
Tho' the lord of the world, was a tailor by trade. 

Masons who work in stone, mortar and brick, 
And lay the foundation deep, solid and thick ; 
Tho' hard be your labor, yet lasting your fame, 
Both Egyx)t and China your wonders proclaim. 






SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 169 

Ye smiths who forge tools for all trades here below, 
You've nothing to fear while you smite and you blow ; 
411 things you may conquer, so happy your lot 
If you're careful to strike while the iron is hot. 

Ye shoemakers nobly from ages long past, 

Have defended your rights with the awl to your last ; 

And cobblers all merry not only stop holes, 

But work night and day for the good of our soles. 

Ye cabinet-makers, brave workers in wood, 

As you work for the ladies, your work must be good; 

Ye joiners and carpenters, far off and near, 

Stick close to your trades and you've nothing to fear. 

Ye coachmakers must not by tax be controll'd, 
But ship off your coaches and fetch us some gold ; 
The roller of your coach made Copernicus reel, 
And foresee the world to turn round like a wheel. 

Ye hatters who oft with hands not very fair, 
Fix hats on a block for blockheads to wear ; 
Tho' charity covers a sin now and then, 
You cover the heads and the sins of all men. 

Ye carders, and spinners, and weavers attend, 
And take the advice of poor Richard, your friend ; 
Stick close to your looms, to your wheels, and your card, 
And you never need fear of times going hard. 

Ye printers who give us our learning and news, 
And impartially print for Turks, Christians and Jews ; 
Let your favorite toast ever sound thro' the streets, 
A freedom to press, and a volume in sheets. 



ItO ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Ye coopers who rattle with driver and adze, 
And lather each day upon hoops and on cags ; 
The famous old ballad of " Love in a tub," 
You may sing to the tune of rub-a-dub-dub. 

Ye ship-builders, riggers, and makers of sails, 
Already the new Constitution prevails ; 
And soon you may see on the proud swelling tide, 
The ships of Columbia triumphantly ride. 

Each tradesman turns out with his tools in his hand, 
To cherish the arts and keep peace thro' the land, 
Each apprentice and journeyman, join in my song, 
And let your full chorus come bounding along. 



ONE HUNDKED AND TWELFTH LESSON. 
PETER PARLEY'S FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 



Well may we exult in the Declaration of Independence ! 
It is, in truth, a great and glorious theme. Our fathers are 
entitled to immortal renown, and they will receive it to the end 
of time, for their magnanimous defence of liberty. They have 
set an example which is worthy of imitation by their descend- 
ants, and by all the nations in the world. On us especially ia 
this example binding. By their courage and sacrifices in the 
cause of freedom we are free ; and we are bound to preserve our 
freedom and the independence of our country, whenever and by 
whomsoever attacked, or to perish in its defence. We therefore 
promise and engage before heaven and earth, that we will pro- 
tect and defend our country, her liberty and independence, to 
the utmost of our bodily and mental strength ; and that before 
we will ever submit to foreign or domestic bondage, we will 
bury ourselves amongst her ruins ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 17 i 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEENTH LESSON, 

AMERICA. 

I rejoice that I have lived to see so much progress of liberty 
much diffusion of virtue and happiness. And, through 
good report and evil report, it will be my consolation to be a 
citizen of a republic unequalled in the annals of the world, for 
the freedom of its institutions, its high prosperity, and the 
prospects of good which lie before it. Our course is onward, 
straight onward, and forward. Let us not turn to the right 
hand nor to the left. Our path is marked out for us, 
clear, plain, bright, distinctly defined, like the milky-way across 
the heavens. If we are true to our country, those who come 
after us shall be true to it also ; we shall elevate her to a pitch 
of prosperity and happiness, of honor and power, never yet 
reached by any nation beneath the sun. 

ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH LESSON. 

SPEECH obituary. — Clark's, Knick- Knacks. 

" Mr. Speaker : Sir ! Our fellow citizen, Mr. Silas Higgins, 
who was lately a member of this branch of the Legislature, is 
dead, and he died yesterday in the forenoon. He had the 
brown-creaters, {bronchitis was meant) and was an uncommon 
individual. His character was good up to the time of his death, 
and he never lost his woice. He was fifty-six years old, and 
was taken sick before he died, at his boarding-house, where board 
can be had at a dollar and seventy-five cents a week, washing 
and lights included. He was an ingenus creetur, and in the 

Diffusion — a spreading. 
Annals — histories. 



1T2 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

early part of his life had a father and mother. He was an officer 
in our State militia since the last war, and was brave and polite : 
and his uncle, Timothy Higgins, belonged to the Revolutionary 
war, and was commissioned as lieutenant, by General Wash- 
ington, first President and Commander-in-Chief of the army 
and navy of the United States, who died at Mount Vernon, 
deeply lamented by a large circle of friends, on the 14th of 
December, 1799, or thereabouts, and was buried soon after his 
death, with military honors, and several guns were bu'st in firing 
salutes. 

" Sir ! Mr. Speaker : General Washington presided over the 
great continental Sanhedrim and political meeting that formed 
our constitution : and he was indeed a first-rate good man. He 
was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his 
countrymen ;.and, though he was in favor of the United States' 
Bank, he was a friend of edication : and from what he said in 
his farewell address, I have no doubt he would have voted for 
the tariff of 1846, if he had been alive, and hadn't ha T died some 
time beforehand. His death was considered, at the time, as 
rather premature, on account of its having been brought on by 
a very hard cold. 

" Now, Mr. Speaker, such being the character of General 
Washington, I motion that we wear crape around the left arm 
of this legislature, and adjourn until to-morrow morning, as an 
emblem of our respects for the memory of S. Higgins, who is 
dead, and died of the brown-creaters yesterday in the forenoon !" 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH LESSON. 



Young Americans, far from you be that mean spirit, which 
is satisfied with half-way excellence. Strive to gain the highest 
badge of honor for yourselves, and for your country. Be greatly 
good. Now is the time to store your minds with knowledge, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 173 

and form your hearts to virtue. It is the condition of our being, 
that all which is most valuable is to be diligently sought. They 
who would win the prize, must exert themselves earnestly in the 
race, and not fall back, nor turn aside for small obstacles. 

Young Americans, can you be ignorant of the high duties to 
which you are called ? Will you pass away the prime of your 
days in careless indolence, and cheat the fair hopes of your 
friends ? Can you be contented to crawl through the world 
without honor, and die without doing anything worthy of your 
country ? 

Your lot is cast in a land where empire is built on truth and 
justice ; where the rights of man are cherished : you are to 
follow where a Washington has led, and where victory can gain 
no laurels in a bad cause. 



ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEENTH LESSON. 

the SPANISH patriot's song. — Anonymous. 

Hark ! hear you the sounds that the winds on their pinions, 

Exultingly roll from the shore to the sea, 
With a voice that resounds through her boundless dominions ? 

'Tis Columbia calls on her sons to be free ! 

% 

Behold on yon summits where Heaven has crowned her, 
How she starts from her proud inaccessible seat ; 

With Nature's impregnable ramparts around her, 
And the cataract's thunder and foam at her feet ! 

In the breeze of her mountains her loose locks are shaken, 
While the soul-stirring notes of her warrior song, 

From the rock to the valley re-echo, " Awaken, 
Awaken, ye hearts that have slumber'd too long 1" 



114 ELOCUTION MADE EAST 

Yes, Despots ! too long did your tyranny .hold us, 

In a vassalage vile, ere its weakness was known : 

Till we learn'd that the links of the chain that controll'd us 

Were forged by the fears of its captives alone. 

That spell is destroy'd and no longer availing, 
Despised as detested — pause well ere ye dare 
To cope with a people whose spirits and feeling 
Are roused by remembrance, and steel'd by despair. 

Go tame the wild torrent, or stem with a straw 

The proud surges that sweep o'er the strand that confines them ; 

But presume not again to give Freemen a law, 

Nor think that the chains they have broken to bind them. 

To hearts that the spirit of Liberty flushes, 
Resistance is idle, — and numbers a dream ; — 
They burst from control, as the mountain-stream rushes 
From its fetters of ice, in the warmth of the beam. 



ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEENTH LESSON. 

man's ENTERPRISE. 

Man is an active being. He seems born for scheming, dar- 
ing and doing. The monuments of his activity are seen in 
every part of the earth. In lofty piles they rise on the plains 
of Egypt: in broken columns and crumbling arches, they Ho 
scattered over the soil of Greece and Rome. In mighty cities, 
navies, highways, institutions, states, thrones and empires, they 
cover the maps of Asia, Europe and America. The hand-writ- 
ing of this activity has chronicled the history of its deeds deep 
in the earth ; and, in broad, flaming capitals, written it on the 
heavens. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 115 

What rock so hard that it has not yielded to its force ? What 
mine so deep that its shaft has not penetrated ? What moun- 
tain so high that its wings have not scaled it ? What chasm so 
broad that it has not spanned it ? Is there any danger it has 
not braved, or any difficulty it has not grappled with ? 

Who can tell the number of its wheels, or estimate the power 
of its levers ? What soils do not its ploughs furrow ? What 
waters do not the keels of its ships divide ? Where strayeth 
not its iron horse, puffing streams of fire from his huge nostrils, 
and mocking omnipotence with the impetus and thunder of his 
rush ? 

O'er what territory speed not its electric messengers ? And 
where, as the mighty ocean lifts up its voice, saying : " Thus far 
shall ye come, and here let your proud flight be stayed," does 
the bold and daring adventurer heed the dread prohibition ? 

Nay, has not his active enterprise spread the broad canvass 
on every ocean, and sped the deep imbeded keel o'er the waters 
of every sea ? 

What pen can chronicle the feats of art, science and philoso- 
phy it has wrought ? Where have not its battle-shocks made 
the earth to quake ? What streams hath not its carnage turned 
to blood ? Where, oh ! where can we set limits to what man's 
enterprise hath done ? It has nearly peopled and subdued the 
whole world, and added the mysteries of the heavenly bodies 
to the domain of his knowledge. 

Far, far away into the depths of space, where the Mighty 
Jehovah has set his jeweled orbs in the glittering firmament of 
heaven, threading his way through the unfathomable bounds, he 
has clustered star with star, and world with world, demonstrat- 
ing their nature and rank, their position and magnitude, till 
scarce a luminary of the sky that does come and go at his bid- 
ding. 

How has he reveled in his aerial flight from constellation to 
constellation, tailing of Pleiades, and Arcturus, and Orion, and 
all the heaver.ly host, till his lofty genius, towering in thought 
sublime, has seemed to mock at heights and depths and vast 



176 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

expanse, and dared to sport with natures' wondrous works, as 
though to human thought and ingenuity, and mortal vision, God 
had set no bound. 

But who shall tell what hidden springs, or undeveloped laws 
stand at his door, and only wait his mandate to come forth, and 
usher in an era more illustrous still ; when, from creation's cen- 
ter to its utmost sun, there shall exist no beauty unde6ned, — 
no glory unrevealed. C * * * * *. 



ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEENTH IESSON. 

UNION — WASHINGTON. — Russell. 

If we are united, we shall have nothing to fear. Union is 
the heart, through which must circulate those streams of life, of 
health, of joy, which shall animate every member, which shall 
heal every disease, and which shall give a zest to every blessing. 
United, you may sit securely, like a mighty giant, on your 
mountains, and bending a stern regard upon the ocean, dare 
the coming of the proudest foe. Policy, genius, nature herself 
invites to union. Be united ! was the last injunction which 
trembled from the lips of our departed Washington. At the 
name of Washington | does not a melancholy pleasure | sadden 
and delight your souls ! He has filled the world with his and 
our glory. The Tartar | and the Arab | converse about him 
| in their tents. His form already stands | in bronze and 
marble | among the worthies of ancient and modern times. 
The fidelity of history | has already taken care | of the immor- 
tality | of his fame. His example | shall animate posterity, 
and should faction tear, or invasion | approach our country, his 
spirit shall descend from the Divinity, and inspire tranquillity and 
courage. Death | has not terminated his usefulness — he has not, 
he can never cease to do good ; even now j he holds from his 

Injunction — Command. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 11*1 

tomb I a torch which, cheers | and enlightens the world. Be 
united, was his last injunction. Washington J loved truth ! Let 
us love it — let us | seek it with a sincere and single heart. It 
will reward the search. It is great, immutable, and eternal. 
The fugitive falsehoods of the moment | shall perish ; party and 
passion | may write their names upon the plaster; but this | 
shall one day moulder, and Truth | remain for ever inscribed | 
upon the marble. 



ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH LESSON. 

PYRAMUS AND THISBE. — J. G. Saxe. 

This tragical tale, which, they say is a true one ; 

Is old ; but the manner is wholly a new one. 

One Ovid, a writer of some reputation, 

Has told it before in a tedious narration ; 

In a style, to be sure, of remarkable fullness, 

But which nobody reads on account of its dullness. 

Young Peter Pyramus — I call him Peter, 
Not for the sake of the rhyme or the meter, 
But merely, to make the name completer — 
For Peter lived in the olden times, 
And in one of the worst of pagan climes 
That nourish now in classical fame, 

Long before 

Either noble or boor 
Had such a thing as a Christian name — 

Young Peter, then, was a nice young beau 
As any young lady would wish to know ; 

In years I ween, 

He was rather green, 



178 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

That is to say, he was just eighteen, — 
A trifle too short, and a shaving too lean, 
But " a nice young man " as ever was seen, 
And fit to dance with a May-day queen ! 



Now Peter loved a beautiful girl 
As ever ensnared the heart of an earl, 
In the magical trap of an auburn curl,— 
A little Miss Thisbe, who lived next door ; 
(They slept, in fact, on the very same floor, 
With a wall between them, and nothing more, — 
Those double dwellings were common of yore,) 
And they loved each other, the legends say, 
In that very beautiful, bountiful way. 

That every young maid, 

And every young blade, 
Are wont to do before they grow staid, 
And leanfto love by the laws of the trade. 
But (a-laek-a-day, for the girl and boy !) 
A little impediment checked their joy, 
And gave them awhile, the deepest annoy, 
For some good reason which history cloaks, 
The match didn't happen to please the old folks ! 

So Thisbe's father and Peter's mother 
Began the young couple to worry and bother, 
And tried their innocent passion to smother, 
By keeping the lovers from seeing each other ! 

But who ever heard 

Of a marriage deterred, 

Or even deferred, 
By any contrivance so very absuid. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 4 1?9 

As scolding the boy, and caging his bird ? 
Now Peter, who was not discouraged at all 
By obstacles such as the timid appall, 
Contrived to discover a hole in the wall, 

Which wasn't so thick 

But removing a brick 
Made a passage — though rather provokingly small. 
Through this little chink the lover could greet her, 
And secrecy made their courting the sweeter, 
While Peter kissed Thisbe, and Thisbe kissed Peter, — 
For kisses, like folks with diminutive souls, 
Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes ! 

'Twas here that the lovers, intent upon love, 

Laid a nice little plot 

To meet at a spot 
Near a mulberry -tree in a neighboring grove ; 

For the plan, was all laid 

By the youth and the maid 
(Whose hearts, it would seem, were uncommonly bold ones,) 
To run off and get married in spite of the old ones. 
In the shadows of evening, as still as a mouse, 
The beautiful maiden slipped out of the house, 
The mulberry-tree impatient to find, 
While Peter, the vigilant matrons to blind, 
Strolled leisurely out, some minutes behind. 

While waiting alone by the trysting tree, 

A terrible lion 

As e'er you set eye on, 
Came roaring along quite horrid to see, 
And caused the young maiden in terror to flee, 
(A lion's a creature whose regular trade is 
Blood — and " a terrible thing among the ladies,") 
And losing her vail as she ran from the wood 
The monster bedabbled it over with blood. 



180 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. 

Now Peter arriving, and seeing the vail 

All covered o'er 

And reeking with gore, 
Turned, all of a sudden, exceedingly pale, 
And sat himself down to weep and to wail, — 
For, soon as he saw the garment, poor Peter 
Made up his mind, in very short meter, 
That Thisbe was dead, and the lion had eat her ! 

So breathing a prayer 

He determined to share 
The fate of his darling, " the loved and the lost/' 
And fell on his dagger, and gave up the ghost ! 

Now Thisbe returning, and viewing her beau 

Lying dead by the vail, (which she happened to know,) 

She guessed, in a moment, the cause of his erring, 

And seizing the knife, 

Which had taken his life, 
In less than a jiffy was dead as a herring ! 

MORAL. 

Young gentlemen ! — pray recollect if you please, 
Not to make your appointments near mulberry-trees. 
Should your mistress be missing, it shows a weak head 
To be stabbing yourself, till you know she is dead. 
Young ladies ! — you shouldn't go strolling about 
When your anxious mammas don't know you are out ; 
And remember that accidents often befall 
From kissing young fellows through holes in the wall ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 181 

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH LESSON. 
ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. — Webster. 

This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institu- 
tions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours, ours to enjoy, 
ours to preserve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and gener- 
ations to come, hold us responsible | for this sacred trust. Our 
fathers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious, paternal 
voices ; posterity calls out to us | from the bosom of the future ; 
the world turns hither | its solicitous eyes ; — all, all conjure us 
to act wisely and faithfully | in the relation | which we sustain. 
We can never, indeed, pay the debt | which is upon us ; but by 
virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good 
principle | and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the 
blessing, through our day, and to leave it unimpaired to our 
children. 

Let us feel deeply how much, of what we are | and of what 
we possess, we owe to this liberty, and these institutions of gov- 
ernment. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil | which yields 
bounteously | to the hands of industry ; the mighty and fruitful 
ocean | is before us, and the skies over our heads | shed health 
and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized 
man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, with- 
out religious culture ? and how can these be enjoyed, in all their 
extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise 
institutions | and a free government ? 

There is not one of us, there is not one of us here present, 
who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience, 
in his own condition, and in the condition of those | most near 
and dear to him, the influence and the benefits of this liberty, 
and these institutions. Let us, then, acknowledge the blessing ; 
let us feel it deeply and powerfully ; let us cherish a strong 



182 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

affection for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The 
blood of our fathers, — let it not have been shed in vain ; the 
great hope of posterity, — let it not be blasted. 

The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world 
around us, cannot be altogether omitted here. Neither individ- 
uals nor nations can perform their part well, until they under- 
stand and feel its importance, and comprehend and justly appre- 
ciate all the duties belonging to it. It is not to inflate national 
vanity, nor to swell a light and empty feeling of self-importance ; 
but it is, that we may judge justly of our situation, and of our 
own duties, that I earnestly urge this consideration of our posi- 
tion, and our character, among the nations of the earth. 

It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against 
the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era com- 
mences in human affairs. This era is distinguished by free re- 
presentative governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved 
systems of national intercourse, by a newly awakened and an 
unconquerable spirit of free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowl- 
edge through the community, such as has been before altogether 
unknown and unheard of. America, America, our country, our 
own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast bound 
up, in fortune and by fate, with these great interests. If they 
fall, we fall with them ; if they stand, it will be because we have 
upholden them. 

Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the 
prosperity of others to our own ; and let us manfully discharge 
all the duties which it imposes. If we cherish the virtues and 
the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on 
the work of human liberty and human happiness. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 183 

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST LESSON 

LAMENT FOR GREECE. — By r 071. 

Clime of the unforgotten brave ! 
Whose land from plain to mountain cave 
Was freedom's home or glory's grave ! 
Shrine of the mighty ! can it be 
That this is all remains of thee ? 
Approach, thou craven crouching slave : 
Say, is not this Thermopylae ? 
These waters blue, that round you lave, 
Oh, servile offspring of the free — 
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this ? 
The gulf, the rock of Salamis ! 
These scenes, their story not unknown, 
Arise, and make again your own ; 
Snatch from the ashes of your sires 
The embers of their former fires ; 
And he who in the strife expires, 
Will add to theirs a name of fear, 
That tyranny shall quake to hear, 
And leaves his sons a hope, a fame, 
They too would rather die than shame : 
For freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is never won. 
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, 
Attest it many a deathless age ! 
While kings, in dusty darkness hid, 
Have left a nameless pyramid ; 
Thy heroes, though the general doom 
Hath swept the column from their tomb, 



184 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

A mightier monument command — 
The mountains of their native land ! 
There points thy muse to stranger's eye 
The graves of those that cannot die ! 
'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace, 
Each step from splendor to disgrace ; 
Enough — no foreign foe could quell 
Thy soul, till from itself it fell ; 
Yes ! self-abasement paved the way 
To villain-bonds and despot sway. 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. 

ADDRESS TO THE PATRIOTS OP THE REVOLU- 
TION. — Webster. 

Section 1. 

Venerable Men ! you have come down to us | from a for- 
mer generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your 
lives | that you might behold this joyous day. You are now 
| where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your 
brothers and neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for 
your country. Behold how altered ! The same heavens | are 
indeed over your heads ; the same ocean | rolls at your feet : 
but all else | how changed ! 

You hear now | no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed 
volumes of smoke and flame ] rising from burning Charlestown. 
The ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetu- 
ous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to 
repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is manly | to re- 
peated resistance; a thousand bosoms | freely and fearlessly 
bared in an instant | to whatever of terror | there may be in 
war | and death : all these you have witnessed, but you witness 
them I no more. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 185 

Section 2. 

The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which 
you then saw | filled with wives and children and countrymen 
j in distress and terror, and looking [ with unutterable emotions 
| for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day ] with 
the sight of its whole happy population, come out to greet you 
| with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity 
of position | appropriately lying | at the foot of this mount, 
and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not the means of 
annoyance to you, but your country's own means | of distinc- 
tion and defence. 

You lived, at least, long enough to know that your work had 
been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see 
your country's independence established, and to sheathe your 
swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise the 
light of Peace, and the sky on which you closed your eyes, was 
cloudless. 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD LESSON 

LOVE OF COUNTRY. — Scott. 

Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
"Who never to himself hath said, 

" This is my own, my native land !" 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned, 

From wandering on a foreign strand ? 
If such there be, go, mark him well ; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles ; proud his name, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power and pelf 
The wretch, concentrated all in self, 



186 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 

And, doubly dying, shall go down 

To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

Washington's birthday. — N. B. Blunt. 

The birth-day of Washington ! what thronging memories 
cluster round the hallowed day ! How swells the heart with 
patriotic pride at mention of the immortal name of Washing- 
ton ! Nearly seventy years have rolled into the abyss of time 
since that memorable era, when, forced by stern necessity, the 
parent country recognized the rights of her infant progeny, and 
acknowledged her existence as a sovereign and independent na- 
tion, the two or three millions who survived that deadly struggle 
have swelled into a teeming population of more than twenty 
millions — the sisterhood of the old thirteen has increased to a 
united family of thirty-one ; and the constrained limits of our 
ancient domain, overleaping the snow-capped ridges of the rocky 
barriers of the West, and breasting successfully the turbid waters 
of the Father of Rivers, now claim the mighty lakes and their 
outlets at the North, the Great River at the South, and the vast 
expanse of two mighty oceans East and West, as their present 
boundaries. The prophesies and taunts which, in greeting her 
birth, proclaimed for the infant Republic a sickly existence and 
premature death, have, like the authors, passed into oblivion. 

The war of the Revolution was not a mere contest about 

stamps, or a struggle about tea. It was a war of principle, a 
contest for supremacy of two great forces — arbitrary power on 
one side, and civil and religious liberty on the other. Between 
these opposing powers a war of ages had already ensued— — 
Baffled oft, — at times subdued — the ethereal spirit, although 
slumbering through the dark night of the Middle Ages, awoke 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 187 

with the Reformation, and renewed the contest. From that 
time it has gone on triumphing and to triumph. u Human 
agency can not extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire, it 
may be smothered for a time ; the ocean may overwhelm it ; 
mountains may press it down, but its unconquerable force will 
heave both the ocean and the land, and at some time or other, 
in some place or other, the volcano will break out and flame up 
to heaven." The scaffold, the dungeon, and the prison-ship 
alike performed their works of vengeance and cruelty, during 
our great struggle. The battle-fields of the Revolution have 
now become classic ground, and the names of Saratoga, Mon- 
mouth, Trenton, and Yorlctown are familiar as household words. 
Through fire and blood the noble spirits of that day went on 
their course of national salvation. But a greater work still re- 
mained ; the work of framing a form of government for them- 
selves and posterity. That work has been accomplished. The 
great problem has been solved. The capacity of men for self- 
government is no longer an experiment, and, in the pride of 
honest fame, the American Republic stands before the world a 
vast and splendid monument of civil and religious liberty. Well 
may we, year after year, accord our joyous greeting at the return 
of that day which gave birth to him, who, under Providence, 
above all, and more than all, was the means of effecting great 
and enduring good. Trained to arms from early youth, he united 
in his person all the moral and physical qualities which belong 
to exalted station. This wisdom, patriotism and experience, 
pointed him out above all others as the chosen man ordained by 
Heaven to work out our emancipation. Welcome, thrice wel- 
come, then, be this glorious anniversary, and again let the cheer 
go forth with which we hail the birth-day of Washington. 



188 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

bingen ON the ehine. — Mrs. Norton. 

A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, — 

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's 

tears ; 
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, 
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. 
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, 
And he said : " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; 
Take a message and a token, to some distant friends of mine, 
For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd 

around, 
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, 
That we fought the battle bravely, — and when the day was done, 
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. 
And midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, — 
The death-wound on their gallant breast, the last of many scars ; 
But some were young, — and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, 
And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, 

And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage : 

For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child, 

My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; 

And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, 

I let them take whate'er they would — but kept my father's 

sword. 
And with boyish love I hung it where, the bright light used to 

shine, 
On the cottage-wall at Bingen, — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 189 

" Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, 
When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gal- 
lant tread ; 
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, 
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die. 
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name 
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; 
And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father's sword and 

mine,) 
For the honor of old Bingen, — dear Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" There's another — not a sister ; — in the happy days gone by, 
You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye : 
Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorning ; — 
Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest 

mourning ! 
Tell her the last night of my life — (for e'er this moon be risen 
My body will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison,) 
I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine, 
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" I saw the blue Rhine sweep along — I heard, or seemed to hear, 
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; 
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, 
That echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; 
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly 

talk, 
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk ; 
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine, 
But we'll meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the Rhine !" 

His voice grew faint and hoarser, — his grasp was childish weak, — 
His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed and ceased to speak ; 
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, — 
The soldrer of the Legion, in a foreign land — was dead ; 



190 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down, 
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; 
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to 

shine, 
As it shone on distant Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. 
SELF-MADE MEN. 

Columbus, the discoverer of America, in 1492, was a weaver. 
Franklin, the illustrious philosopher, was a journeyman printer. 
The eloquent Massilon, as well as the brilliant Fletcher, arose 
amidst the humblest vocations. Niebuhr, the celebrated trav- 
eler, was a peasant. Sixtus V. was the son of a gardener, 
and in his youth was employed in keeping swine. The great 
Rollin, the historian, was the son of a cutler, and Burns, the 
celebrated Scottish poet, was a plowman. 

iEsop, the author of the celebrated fables which have so often 
delighted us in days gone by, was a slave. Homer was a beggar. 
Daniel Defoe, the author of Robinson Crusoe, was apprenticed 
to a shoemaker, and was afterwards a cabin-boy. Demosthenes, 
the great orator, was the son of a cutler. Hogarth, the painter, 
was an apprentice to an engraver of arms on silver plate. Virgil, 
the great Roman poet, was the son of a baker. 

Mallet, a good writer, rose from extreme poverty. Gay the 
poet, was an apprentice to a silk mercer. Ben Jonson was a 
bricklayer. Porson, the renowned professor, was the son of a 
parish clerk. Bishop Prideaux was at one time employed to 
sweep Exeter College, in England. Akenside, the poet, was the 
son of a butcher. Pope was the son of a merchant. Cervantes, 
a well-known Spanish writer, was a common soldier. Gifford 
and Bloomfield, both excellent poets, were shoemakers. 

Howard, the philanthropist, was apprenticed to a grocer. 
Halley, the well-known astronomer, was the son of a soap 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 191 

boiler. The parents of Sir Richard Arkwright, were very poor, 
and he was a barber for a number of years. Belzoni, the cele- 
brated Egyptian traveler, was the son of a barber. Barry, an 
eminent painter, was originally a mason. Blackstone, the cele- 
brated lawyer, was the son of a linen-draper. 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
" PRESS ON." — P. Benjamin. 

Press on ! there's no such word as fail ! 

Press nobly on ! the goal is near ; 
Ascend the mountain : breast the gale ! 

Look upward, onward — never fear ! 
Why should'st thou faint ? Heaven smiles above, 

Though storm and vapor intervene ; 
That sun shines on, whose name is Love, 

Serenely o'er life's shadowed scene. 

Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch ; 
He fails alone who feebly creeps ; 

He wins, who dares the hero's march. 
Be thou a hero ! let thy might 

Tramp on eternal snows its way, 
And through the ebon walls of night, 

Hew down a passage unto day. 

Press on ! if Fortune plays thee false, 

To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, 

Taking old gifts and granting new. 
The wisdom of the present hour 

Makes up for follies past and gone ; 
To weakness strength succeeds, and power 

From frailty springs — press on ! press on ! 



192 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Therefore press on ! and reach the goal, 

And gain the prize, and wear the crown ; 
Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul 

Come wealth, and honor, and renown. 
To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; 
Press on ! and thou shall surely reap 

A heavenly harvest for thy toil ! 

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON 

THE WIND IN A FROLIC. — Homt. 

The wind one morning sprung up from sleep, 

Saying " Now for a frolic ! now for a leap ! 

Now for a mad-cap galloping chase ! 

I'll make a commotion in every place !" 

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, 

Creaking the signs, and scattering down 

Shutters : and whisking with merciless squalls, 

Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls ; 

There never was heard a much lustier shout, 

As the apples and oranges tumbled about ; 

And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes 

For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize. 

Then away to the field it went blustering and humming, 

And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming ; 

Till, offended at such a familiar salute, 

They all turned their backs and stood silently mute. 

So on it went, capering and playing its pranks, 

Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks ; 

Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, 

Or the traveler grave on the king's highway. 

It was not too nice to bustle the bags 

Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags : 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 193 

'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke 

With the doctor's wig, and the gentleman's cloak. 

Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, " Now, 

You sturdy old oaks I'll make you bow I" 

And it made them bow without more ado, 

And cracked their great branches through and through. 

Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, 

Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm, 

And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. 

There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, 

To see if their poultry were free from mishaps. 

The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, 

And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd : 

There were rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, 

Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone ; 

But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane 

With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain : 

For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and he stood 

With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud. 



ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. 

THE MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF ocean. — Walsh's National 
Gazette. 

Lonely and wild it rose, 
That strain of solemn music from the sea, 
As though the bright air trembled to disclose 

An ocean mystery. 

Again a low, sweet tone, 
Fainting in murmurs on the listening day, 
Just bade the excited thought its presence own, 

Then died away. 



194 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

* 

Once more the gush of sound 
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain, 
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around, 

And fled again. 

O boundless deep ! we know 
Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed, 
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow 

Sunlight is sealed. 

And an eternal spring - 
Showers her rich colors with unsparing hand, 
Where coral trees, their graceful branches fling 

O'er golden sand. 

But tell, O restless main ! 
Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath, 
That thus the watery realm cannot contain 
The joy they breathe % 

Emblem of glorious might ! 
Are thy wild children like thyself arrayed, 
Strong in immortal and unchecked delight, 

Which cannot fade ? 

Alas -for human thought ! 
How does it flee existence, worn and old, 
To win companionship with beings wrought 

Of finer mould ! 

'Tis vain the reckless waves 
Join with loud revel the dim ages flown, 
But keep each secret of their hidden caves, 

Dark and unknown. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 195 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH LESSON. 
THE murderer. — Webster. 

Gentlemen, this is a most extraordinary case. In some 
respects it has hardly a precedent anywhere— certainly none in 
our New England history. An aged man, without an enemy 
in the world, in his own house, and in his own bed, is made the 
victim of a brutal murder, for mere pay. Deep sleep had 
fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A 
healthful old man to whom sleep was sweet — the first sound 
slumbers of the night hold him in their soft but strong embrace. 

The assassin enters through the window, already prepared, into 
an unoccupied apartment ; with noiseless foot he paces the lonely 
hall, half lighted by the moon ; he winds up the ascent of the 
stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this he moves 
the lock, by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges ; 
and he enters and beholds his victim before him. The room 
was uncommonly light. The face of the innocent sleeper was 
turned from the murderer ; and the beams of the moon, resting 
on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to 
strike. The fatal blow is given, and the victim passes, without 
a struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose 
of death ! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work, and 
he yet plies the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been 
destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the 
aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and re- 
places it again over the wounds of the poniard ! To finish the 
picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse ! he feels it, and 
ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished ! the deed 
is done ! He retreats — retraces his steps to the window, passes 
through as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder ; 
no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him ; the secret is his 
own, and he is safe. 



196 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. 

Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can 
be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook 
nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it and say it is safe. 
Not to speak of that eye which glances through all disguises, 
and beholds everything as in the splendor of noon, — such secrets 
of guilt are never safe ; " murder will out." True it is that 
Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that 
those who break the great law of heaven, by shedding man's 
blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially in a 
case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must and will 
come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore 
every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected with the 
time and place ; a thousand ears catch every whisper ; a thou- 
sand excited minds intently dwell on the scene ; shedding all 
their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a 
blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its 
own secret. It is false to itself — or rather it feels an irresistible 
impulse of conscience to be true to itself — it labors under its 
guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The hu- 
man heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant ; 
it finds itself preyed on by a torment which it dares not acknowl- 
edge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no 
sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret 
which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him ; and 
like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and 
leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, 
rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the 
whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost 
hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has 
become his master ; — it betrays his discretion ; it breaks down 
his courage ; it conquors his prudence. When suspicions, from 
without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances 
to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater vio- 
lence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed ; 
there is no refuge from confession but in suicide, and suicide is 
confession* 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 19? 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. 
the Spanish champion. — Mrs. Hemana. 

The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, 
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; 
" I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, 
I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! — ! break my father's 
chain [" 

" Rise, rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man, this 

day ! 
Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his 

way." 
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, 
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. 

And lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering 

band, 
With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land : 
" Now, haste, Bernado, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he, 
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see. " 

His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue 
came and went ; 

He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dis- 
mounting, bent ; 

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took, 

What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? 

That hand was cold, a frozen thing, it dropped from his like 

lead! 
He looked up to the face above, the face was of the dead ! 



198 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and 

white : 
He met, at last, his father's eyes, but in them was no sight ! 

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed ; but who could paint 

that gaze ? 
They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze : 
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he 

stood ; 
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the 

blood. 

" Father !" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood 

then; 
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! 
He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown, 
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. 

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful 

brow, 
" No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword for, 

now, 
My king is false, my hope betrayed ! My father — ! the worth, 
The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth ! 

I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, 

yet! 
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had 

met! 
Thou would'st have known my spirit then ; for thee my fields 

were won ; 
And thou hast perished in thy thy chains, as though thou hadst 

no son P 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 199 

Then starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's 

rein, 
Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier's train ; 
And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, 
And sternly set them face to face, the king before the dead ! 

11 Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss f 
Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this ? 
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, give answer, where 

are they ? 
If thou would'st clear thy perjured soul, send life through this 

cold clay ! 

" Into those glassy eyes put light ; be still, keep down thine ire ! 
Bid these white lips a blessing speak, this earth is not my sire : 
Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was 

shed ! 
Thou canst not ? and, a king ! his dust be mountains on thy 

head !" 

He loosed the steed, his slack hand fell ; upon the silent face 
He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that 

sad place : 
His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : 
His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. 



SHIP OF state.— H. W. Longfellow. 



" Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 
Humanity with all its fears, 
With all the hopes of future years, 



200 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, , 
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 
Fear not each sudden sound and shock, — 
'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 
'Tis but the flappiug of the sail, 
And not a rent made by the gale ! 
In spite of rock and tempest roar, 
In spite of false lights on the shore, 
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, are all with thee !" 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. 

THE WORLD FOR SALE. — Rev. Ralph Hoyt. 

The world for sale ! Hang out the sign ; 

Call every traveler here to me : 
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, 

And set this weary spirit free ? 
'Tis going ! yes, I mean to fling 

The bauble from my soul away ; 
I'll sell it, whatsoe'er in bring : 

The world at auction here to-day ! 

It is a glorious sight to see, 

But, ah ! it has deceived me sore ; 

It is not what it seems to be, 

For sale ! it shall be mine no more. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 201 

Come, turn it o'er and view it well : 



I would not have you purchase dear. 
; Tis going ! going ! I must sell ! 

Who bids ? who'll buy the splendid tear ? 

Here's wealth, in glittering heaps of gold ; 

Who bids ? But let me tell you fair, 
A baser lot was never sold ! 

Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care ? 
And, here, spread out in broad domain, 

A goodly landscape all may trace, 
Hall, cottage, tree, field, hill and plain ; — 

Who'll buy himself a burial place ? 

Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell 

That Beauty flings around the heart ; 
I know its power, alas ! too well ; 

'Tis going ! Love and I must part ! 
Must part ? What can I more with Love ? 

All over 's the enchanter's reign. 
Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove, — 

A breath of bliss, a storm of pain ? 

And, Friendship, rarest gem of earth ; 

Who e'er hath found the jewel his ? 
Frail, fickle, false and little worth, 

Who bids for Friendship — as it is ? 
'Tis going ! going ! hear the call ; 

Once, twice, and thrice, 'tis very low ! 
'Twas once my hope, my stay, my all, 

But now the broken staff must go ! 

Fame ! hold the brilliant meteor high ; 

How dazzling every gilded name ! . 
Ye millions ! now's the time to buy, 

How much for Fame ? how much for Fame 



202 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Hear how it thunders ! Would you stand 
On high Olympus, far renowned, 

Now purchase, and a world command ! — 
And be with a world's curses crowned. 

Sweet star of Hope ! with ray to shine 

In every sad forboding breast, 
Save this desponding one of mine, — 

Who bids for man's last friend and best ? 
Ah ! were not mine a bankrupt life, 

This treasure should my soul sustain ! 
But Hope and Care are now at strife, 

Nor ever may unite again. 

Ambition, fashion, show and pride, 

I part from all for ever now ; 
Grief, in an overwhelming tide, 

Has taught my haughty heart to bow. 
By Death, stern sheriff! all bereft, 

I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod ; 
The best of all I still have left, — 

My Faith, my Bible, and my God ! 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
OCCASIONAL prologue. — Anonymous . 

Dear friends, we thank you for your condescension, 
In deigning thus to lend us your attention ; 
And hope the various pieces we recite 
(Boys though we are), will yield you some delight. 

From wisdom and from knowledge, pleasure springs, 
Surpassing far the glaring pomp of kings ; 
All outward splendor quickly dies away, 
But wisdom's honors never can decay. 

Surpassing — exceeding. Pomf — display. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 203 

Blest is the man who treads her paths in youth, 

They lead to virtue, happiness, and truth ;— 

Sages and patriots in these ways have trod, 

Saints have walked in them, till they reached their God. 

The powers of eloquence can charm the soul, 
Inspire the virtuous, and the bad control ; 
Can rouse the passions, or their rage can still, 
And mould a stubborn mob to one man's will. 



Such powers the great Demosthenes attained, 
Who haughty Philip's conquering course restrained ; 
Indignant thundering at his country's shame, 
Till every breast in Athens caught the flame. 

Such powers were Cicero's : — with patriot might, 
He dragged the lurking treason forth to light, 
Which long had festered in the heart of Eome, 
And saved his country from her threatened doom. 

Nor to the senate or the bar confined, 
The ^pulpit shows its influence o'er the mind ; 
Such glorious deeds can eloquence achieve : 
Such fame, such deathless laurels, it can give. 

Then say not this, our weak attempt, is vain, 
For frequent practice will perfection gain ; 
The fear to speak in public it destroys, 
And drives away the bashfulness of boys. 



Sages— wise men. Patriots — lovers of their country. 
Laueel — a tree of which wreaths of honor were formerly made. 



204 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Various the pieces we to-night repeat, 

And in them various excellences meet, 

Some rouse the soul, — some gently sooth the ear, 

" From grave to gay, from lively to severe.'' 

We would your kind indulgence then bespeak, 
For awkward manner, and for utterance weak, 
Our , owers, indeed, are feeble : — but our aim 
Is not to rival Greek or Roman fame ; 

Our sole ambition aims at you applause, 

We are but young — let youth then plead our cause ; 

And if your approbation be obtained, 

Our wish is answered and our end is gained. 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
occasional epilogue. — Anonymous. 

Our parts are perform'd and our speeches are ended — 
We are monarchs, and courtiers, and heroes no more : 

To a much humbler station again we've descended, 

And are now but the schoolboys you've known us before. 

Farewell ! then our greatness — 'tis gone like a dream, 
'Tis gone — but remembrance will often retrace 

The indulgent applause which rewarded each theme, 
And the heart-cheering smiles that enlivened each face. 



Monarchs — kings. Courtiers — attendants on courts. 
Heroes — great warriors. Retrace — to trace back. 
Indulgent — kind. Applause — praise. Theme — subject. 
Enliven — animate. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 205 

We thank you ! — Our gratitude words cannot tell, 

But deeply we feel it — to you it belongs ; 
With heartfelt emotion we bid you farewell, 

And our feelings now thanks you much more than our 
tongues. 

We will strive to improve since applauses thus cheer us ; 

That our juvenile efforts may gain your kind looks ; 
And we hope to convince you the next time you hear us, 

That praise has but sharpen'd our relish for books. 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

excelsior. — H. W> Lmgfellow. 

The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior I* 

His brow was sad ; his eye, beneath, 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath ; 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, 
Excelsior ! 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
Excelsior ! 

* Higher 



206 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

" Try not to pass !" the old man said 
" Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide !" — 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 
Excelsior ! 

" Oh ! stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast !" — 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye ; 
But still he answered with a sigh, 
Excelsior ! 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche !" 
This was the peasant's last good-night ; — 
A voice replied far up the height, 
Excelsior ! 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of St. Bernard 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried, through the startled air, 
Excelsior ! 

A traveler, — by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow, was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice, 
The banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior ! 

There, in the twilight cold and gfay, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, — 
Excelsior ! 



DIALOGUES. 207 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

old fickle and His SON. — J. T. Mingham. 

Old Fickle. What reputation, what honor what profit, can 
accrue to you from such conduct as yours ? One moment you 
tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the 
world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. 

Tristram FicMe. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. 

Old F. Then, from a fiddler, you are metamorphosed into a 
philosopher ; and, for the noise of drums, trumpets and haut- 
boys, you substitute a wild jargon, more unintelligible than was 
ever heard at the tower of Babel. 

Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy is 
folly : so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato 
and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. 

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper, the other day, 
for barrelling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live 
like Diogenes ? 

Tri, You should not have paid him anything, sir ; for the 
tub would not hold. You see the contents are run out. 

Old F. No jesting, sir ! this is no laughing matter. Your 
follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the 
whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have been 01 
fifty different minds in half an hour. 

Tri. And by that, shown the versatility of my genius, 

Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir ! Let me see a little 
steadiness. You have never yet been constant to anything but 
extravagance. 

Tri. Yes, sir, — one thing more. 

Old F. What is that, sir ? 

Tri. Affection for you, sir. However my head may have 
wandered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the 



208 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

fondest of parents ; and, from this moment, I am resolved to 
lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will 
be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. 

Old F. Well said, my boy, — well said ! You make me happy, 
indeed ! [Patting him on the shoulder^] Now, then, my dear 
Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. 

Tri. To study law — 

Old F. The law ! 

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. 

Old F. No ! 

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. 

Old F. Better and better ! I am overjoyed. Why, 'tis the 
very thing I wished. Now I am happy ! [Tristram makes 
gestures as if speaking.'] See how his mind is engaged ! 

Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury — 

Old F. Why Tristram ! 

Tri. This is a cause — 

Old F. O, my dear boy ! I forgive you all your tricks. I see 
something about you now that I can depend on. [Tristram 
continues making gestures^] 

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause — 

Old F. Bravo ! bravo ! Excellent boy. I'll go and order 
your books, directly ? 

Tri. 'Tis done, sir. 

Old F. What, already ! 

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books, when I first 
thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. 

Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot ? 

Tri. By tho foot, sir ; that is the only way to become a solid 
lawyer. 

Old F. Twelve square feet of learning ! Well — 

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber — 

Old F. A barber ? What, is he to teach you to shave close ? 

Tri. He is to shave one half of my head, sir ! 

Old F. You will excuse me, if I cannot perfectly understand 
what that has to do with the study of the law. 



DIALOGUES. 209 

Tri. Did you never near of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian 
orator ? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up 
in a coal cellar. 

Old F. Ah ! he was perfectly right to lock himself up, after 
having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly 
would have made rather an odd figure abroad. 

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism 
of his countrymen, — lightning in his eye, and thunder in his 
voice ; he pours out a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its force ; 
the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks ; he denounces, 
and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers ; he exposes the 
impending danger, and every one sees impending ruin; he 
threatens the tyrant, — they grasp their swords ; he calls for 
vengeance,-— their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and thou- 
sands reverberate the cry ! One soul animates a nation, and 
that soul is the soul of the orator ! 

Old F. 0, what a figure he will make on the King's Bench ! 
But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you 
will see how happily this determination of yours will further it. 
You have [Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speak- 
ing'] often heard me speak of my friend, Briefwit, the barrister — 

Tri. Who is against me in this cause — 

Old F. He is a most learned lawyer — 

Tri. But as I have justice on my side — 

Old F. Zounds ! he doesn't hear a word I say ! Why, Tris- 
tram ! 

Tris. I beg your pardon, sir ; I was prosecuting my studies. 

Old F. Now, attend — 

Tris. As my learned friend observes — Go on, sir ; I am all 
attention. 

Old F. Well, my friend the counsellor — 

Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen 
of the law always — 

Old F. Well, well, — my learned friend — 

Tri. A black patch ! 

Old F. Will you listen, and be silent ? 



210 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Tri. I am as mute as a judge ! 

Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward who is very handsome, 
and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you 
a charming wife. 

Tri. This is an action — 

Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you to 
my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness and 
his gravity — 

Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. 

Old F. But now as you are grown serious and steady, and 
have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you 
together ; you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest 
follows, of course, 

Tri. A verdict in my favor. 

Old F. You marry, and sit down, nappy for life. 

Tri. In the King's Bench. 

Old F. Bravo ! Ha, ha, ha ! But now run to your study 
— run to your study, my dear Tristram, and I will go and call 
upon the counsellor. 

Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. 

Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. [Hur- 
rying him off.~\ 

Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury, this is a cause — [Fxit.~] 

Old F. The inimitable boy ! I am now the happiest father 
living. What genius he has ! He'll be lord chancellor, one 
day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents ! O, 
how I long to see him at the bar ! 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
WHY AN APPLE FALLS? 

Henry. Charles, I have been reading to-day that Sir Isaac 
Newton was led to make some of his great discoveries by seeing 
an apple fall from a tree. What was there remarkable in 
that? 



DIALOGUES. 211 

Charles. There was nothing extraordinary ; but it happened 
to catch his attention and set him a thinking. 

H. And what did he think about ? 

C. He thought by what means the apple was brought to the 
ground. 

H. Why, I could have told him that — because the stalk gave 
way, and there was nothing to keep it up. 

C. And what then 3 

H. Why then—it must fall, you know. 

0. But why must it fall ? — that is the point. 

H. Because it could not help it. 

C. But why could it not help it ? 

H. I don't know — that is an odd question. Because there 
was nothing to keep it up. 

C. Suppose there was not — does it follow that it must come 
to the ground ? 

If. Yes, surely ! 

C. Is an apple animate* or inanimate ?f 

H. Inanimate to be sure. 

C. And can inanimate things move of themselves ? 

H. No — I think not — but the apple falls because it is forced 
to fall. 

C. Right ! Some force out of itself acts upon it ; otherwise 
it would remain for ever where it was, notwithstanding it were 
loosened from the tree. 

H. Would it? 

C. Certainly !— for there are only two ways in which it could 
be moved ; by its own power of motion, or the power of some- 
what else moving it. Now, the first you acknowledge it has 
not ; the cause of its motion must therefore be the second. 
And what that is, was the subject of Sir Isaac Newton's inquiry. 

H. But everything falls to the ground as well as an apple, 
when there is nothing to keep it up. 

C. True — there must therefore be an universal cause of this 
tendency to fall. 

* Animate — alive. j- Inanimate — not alive. 



212 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

H. And what is it ? 

C. Why, if things out of the earth cannot move themselves 
to it, there can be no other cause of their coming together, than 
that the earth pulls them. 

H. But the earth is no more animate than they are ; so how 
can it pull ? 

0. Well objected. This will bring us to the point. Sir Isaac 
Newton, after deep meditation, discovered that there was a law 
in nature,' called attraction, by which every particle of matter, 
that is, everything of which the world is composed, draws to- 
wards it every other particle of matter, with a force proportioned 
to its size and distance. 

Lay two marbles on a table. They have a tendency to come 
together, and if there were nothing else in the world, they would 
come together ; but they are also attracted by the table, by the 
ground, and by everything besides in the room ; and these dif- 
ferent attractions pull against each other. 

Now, the globe of the earth is a prodigious mass of matter, 
to which nothing near it can bear any comparison. It draws, 
therefore, with mighty force everything within its reach, which 
is the cause of their falling ; and this is called the gravitation 
of bodies, or what gives them weight. 

When I lift up anything, I act contrary to this force, for which 
reason it seems heavy to me ; and the heavier, the more matter 
it contains, since that increases the attraction of the earth for it. 
Do you understand this ? 

H. I think I do. It is like the loadstone drawing the needle. 

C. Yes — that is an attraction, but of a particular kind, only 
taking place between the magnet and iron. But gravitation, or 
the attraction of the earth, acts upon everything alike. 

H. Then it is pulling you and me at this moment. 

C. It is. 

H. But why do we not stick to the ground, then ? 

C. Because as we are alive, we have a power of self-motion, 
which can, to a certain degree, overcome the attraction of tha 
earth. But the reason you cannot jump a mile high as well a? 



DIALOGUES. 213 

a foot is this attraction, which brings you down again after the 
force of your jump is spent. 

H. I think then I begin to understand what I have heard of 
people living on the other side of the world. I believe they are 
called Antipodes, who have their feet turned towards ours, and 
their heads in the air. I used to wonder how it could be that 
they did not fall off, but I suppose the earth pulls them to it. 

C. Very true. And whither should they fall ? What have 
they over their heads. 

H. I don't know — sky, I suppose. 

C. They have. The earth is a vast ball, hung in the air, and 
continually spinning round, and that is the cause why the 
sun and stars seem to rise and set. At noon, we have the sun 
over our heads, when the Antipodes have the stars over theirs. 
So whither should they fall, more than we ? — to the stars or 
the sun ? 

H. But we are up, and they are down. 

C- What is up, but from the earth and towards the sky ? 
Their feet touch the earth and their heads point to the sky as 
well as ours ; and we are under their feet, as much as they are 
under ours. If a hole were dug quite through the earth, what 
would you see through it ? 

H. Sky, with the sun or stars ; and now I see the whole 
matter plainly. But pray, what supports the earth in the air ? 

C. Why, where should it go to f 

H. I don't hnow — I suppose where there was most to draw 
it. I have heard that the sun was a great many times larger 
than the earth. Would it not go to that? 

C. You have thought very justly on the matter, I perceive. 
But I shall take another opportunity of showing you how this 
is, and why the earth does not fall into the sun, of which I con- 
fess there seems to be some danger. Meanwhile think how far 
the falling of an apple has carried us ? 

H. To the Antipodes, and I know not where. 
C. You may see from thence what use may be made of the 
most common fact by a thinking mind. 



214 - DIALOGUES. 



DIALOGUES. 

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN 

Charles. Well, friend William ! I have sold you a noble pro- 
vince in North America; but still I suppose you have no 
thoughts of going thither yourself. 

Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles ; and I am 
iust come to bid thee farewell. 

Char. What ! venture yourself among the savages of North 
America ! Why, man, what security have you that you will 
not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot en 
their shores ? 

Penn. The best security in the world. 

Char. I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any 
security against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good sol- 
diers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you 
beforehand, that, with all my good will for you and your 
family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a sin- 
gle soldier with you. 

Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles : I depend on 
something better than thy soldiers. 

Char. Ah ! and what may that be ? 

Penn. Why, I depend upon themselves — on the workings of 
their own hearts — on their notions of justice — on their moral 
sense. 

Char. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ; but I 
fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North 
America. 

Penn And why not among them, as well as others ? 

Char. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not 
have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done. 

Penn. That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy 
subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to 
North America, they found these poor people the fondest and 
' kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 215 

for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast 
them on the best fish, and venison, and corn, which was all 
that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as 
we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their 
country and rich hunting-grounds, for farms for themselves .' 
Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people 
should have been driven to desperation by such injustice ; and 
that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some 
excesses ? 

Char. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they 
come to treat you in the same manner. 

Venn. I am not afraid of it. 

Char. Ah ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get their 
hunting-grounds too, I suppose ? 

Penn. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from 
them. 

Char. No, indeed ! How then will you get the lands ? 

Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them. 

Char. Buy their lands of them ! Why, man, you have already 
bought them of me. 

Penn. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too ; but I did 
it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any 
right to their lands. 

Char. How, man ! no right to their lands ! 

Venn. No, friend Charles, no right at all : what right hast 
thou to their lands ? 

Char. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure ; the right 
which the pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give 
one another. 

Penn. The right of discovery ! A strange kind of right, in- 
deed ! Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe-loads 
of these Indians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island 
of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for 
sale over thy head, — what wouldst thou think of it ? 
t. Char. Why — why — why — I must confess, I should think it a 
piece of great impudence in them. 

Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Chris* 
tian prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in 
these people, whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles r 
14 



216 DIALOGUES. 

and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give 
up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, 
having weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy 
many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away, — wouldst thou 
not think it horribly cruel ? 

Char. I must say that I should, friend William ; how can I 
say otherwise ? 

Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, 
do what I should abhor even in heathen ? No, I will not do it 
But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the In 
dians themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, 
in his justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on 
my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. 
CAPTAIN HARDY NATHAN. AnOTtymOUS. 

Nathan. Good morning, captain. How do you stand this hot 
weather ? 

Captain. Bless you, boy, it's a cold bath to what we had at 
Monmouth ? Did I ever tell you about that-are battle ? 

N. I have always understood that it was dreadful hot that 
day! 

Cap. Bless you, boy, it makes my crutch sweat to think on't 
—and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things about 
that-are battle, sich as you wouldn't believe, you rogue, if 1 
didn't tell you. It beats all natur how hot it was. 

N. I wonder you did not all die of heat and fatigue. 

Cap. Why, so we should, if the reg'lars had only died first , 
but, you see, they never liked the Jarseys, and wouldn't lay 
their bones there. Now if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell 
you all about that-are business, for you see they don't do things 
so now-a-days. 

N. How so ? Do not people die as they used to ? 

Cap. Bless you, no. It beat all natur to see how long the 
reg'lars would kick after we killed them. 

N. What ! kick after they were killed ! That does beat all 
natur, as you say. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 217 

Cap. Come, boy, no splitting hairs with an old continental, 
for you see, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things 
about that-are battle, that you'd never believe. Why, bless 
you, when gineral Washington telled us we might give it to 
'em, we gin it to em, I tell you. 

N. You gave what to them ? 

Cap. Cold lead, you rogue. Why, bless you, we fired twice 
to their once, you see ; and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell 
you how we did it. You must know, the reg'lars wore their 
close-bodied red coats, because they thought we were afeared 
on 'em, but we did not wear any coats, you see, because we 
hadn't any. 

N. How happened you to be without coats ? 

Cap. Why, bless you, they would wear out, and the States 
couldn't buy us any more, you see, and so we marched the 
lighter, and worked the freer for it. Now if I did not hate long 
stories, I would tell you what the gineral said to me next day, 
when I had a touch of the rheumatiz from lying on the field 
without a blanket all night. You must know, it was raining 
hard just then, and we were pushing on like all natur arter the 
reg'lars. 

N. What did the gineral say to you ? 

Cap. Not a syllable, says he, but off comes his coat, and he 
throws it over my shoulders, " there, captain," says he, " wear 
that, for we can't spare you yet." Now don't that beat all 
natur, hey ? 

N. So you wore the general's coat, did you ? 

Cap. Lord bless your simple heart, no. I didn't feel sick 
arter that, I tell you. No, gineral, says I, they can spare me 
better than they can you, just now, and so I'll take the will for 
the deed, says I. 

N. You will never forget this kindness, captain. 

Cap. Not I, boy ! I never feel a twinge of the rheumatiz but 
what I say, God bless the gineral. Now you see, I hate long 
stories, or I'd tell you how I gin it to a reg'lar that tried tc 
shoot the gineral at Monmouth. You know we were at close 
quarters, and the gineral was right between the two fires. 

jV. I wonder he was not shot. 

Cap. Bless your ignorant soul, nobody could kill the gineral ; 



218 DIAL0GUE8. 

but you see, a sneaking reg'lar didn't know this, and so he 
levelled his musket at him, and you see, I seed what he was 
arter, and I gin the gineral's horse a slap on the haunches, and 
it beats all natur how he sprung, and the gineral all the while 
as straight as a gun-barrel. 

N. And you saved the gineral's life. 

Cap. Didn't I tell you nobody could kill the gineral ? but, 
you see, his horse was in the rake of my gun, and I wanted to 
get the start of that cowardly reg'lar. 

JV". Did you hit him ? 

Cap. Bless your simple soul, do<"t the thunder hit where it 
strikes ! though the fellow made ae blink a little, for he car- 
ried away part of this ear. — Ste there ! (Showing his ear.) 
Now don't that beat all natur ? 

N. I think it does. But tell me, how is it that you took all 
these things so calmly ? What made you so contented under 
your privations and hardships ? 

Cap. Oh, bless your young soul, we got used to it. Besides, 
you see, the gineral never flinched nor grumbled 

N. Yes, but you served without being paid. 

Cap. So did the gineral, and the States, you know, were 
poor as all natur. 

N. But you had families to support. 

Cap. Ay, ay, but the gineral always told us that God and 
our country would take care of them, you see. Now, if I 
didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how it turned out just as 
he said, for he beat all natur for guessing light. 

N. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you have 
done for your country, and what she has done for you ? 

Cap. Why, bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs at York 
town, I wouldn't have touched a stiver of the States' money, 
and as it is, I am so old, that I shall not need it long. You 
must know, I long to see the gineral again, for if he don't hate 
long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all about America, 
you see, for it beats all natur how things have changed s;~3e 
he left us 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 219 



ONE HUNDRED AND FORTIETH LESSON. 
DIALOGUE ON PHYSIOGNOMY. 

Frank. It appears strange to me that people can be so im- 
posed upon. There is no difficulty in judging folks by their 
looks. I profess to know as much of a man, at the first view, 
as by a half dozen years' acquaintance. 

Henry. Pray, how is that done ? I should wish to learn such 
an art. 

Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Physiognomy ? 

Hen. No. What do you mean by such a hard word ? 

Fr. Physiognomy means a knowledge of men's hearts, 
thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For instance, if you 
see a man with a forehead jutting over his eyes like a piazza ; 
with a pair of eyebrows heavy like the cornice of a house ; 
with full eyes, and a Roman nose, — depend on it, he is a great 
scholar, and an honest man. 

Hen. It seems to me I should rather go below his nose, to 
discover his scholarship. 

Fr. By no means : if you look for beauty, you may descend 
to the mouth and chin ; otherwise never go below the region 
of the brain. 

Enter George. 

George. Well, I have been to see the man hanged. And he 
has gone to the other world, with just such a great forehead, 
and Roman nose, as you have always been praising. 

Fr. Remember, George, all signs fail in dry weather. 

Geor. Now, be honest, Frank, and owr that there is nothing 
in all this science of yours. The only way to know men is by 
their actions. If a man commit burglary, think you a Roman 
nose ought to save him from punishment ? 

Fr. I don't carry my notions so far as that ; but it is certain 
that all the faces in the world are different ; and equally true 
that each has some marks about it, by which one can discover 
the temper and character of the person. 
14* 



220 DIALOGUES. 

Enter Peter. 

Peter [to Frank']. Sir, I have heard of your fame from Dan to 
Beersheba ; that you can know a man by his face, and can tell 
his thoughts by his looks. Hearing this, I have visited you, 
without the ceremony of an introduction. 

Fr. Why, indeed, I profess something in that way. 

Pet. By that forehead, nose, and those eyes of yours, one 
might be sure of an acute, penetrating mind. 

Fr. I see that you are not ignorant of Physiognomy. 

Pet. I am not ; but still I am so far from being an adept in 
the art, that unless the features are very remarkable, I cannot 
determine with certainty. But yours is the most striking face 
I ever saw. There is a certain firmness in the lines which 
lead from the outer verge to the centre of the apple of your 
eye, which denotes great forecast, deep thought, bright inven- 
tion, and a genius for great purposes. 

Fr. You are a perfect master of the art. And to show you 
that I know something of it, permit me to observe, that the 
form of your face denotes frankness, truth, and honesty. Your 
heart is a stranger to guile, your lips to deceit, and your hands 
to fraud. 

Pet. I must confess that you have hit upon my true charac- 
ter, though a different one from what I have sustained in the 
view of the world. 

Fr. {to Henry and George.] Now see two strong examples of 
the truth of physiognomy. [ While he is saying this, Peter takes 
out his pocket-book, and makes off with himself.] Now, can you 
conceive, that, ■without this knowledge, I could fathom the 
character of a total stranger ? 

Hen. Pray, tell us by what marks you discovered that in his 
neart and lips were no guile, and in his hands no fraud ! 

Fr. Ay, leave that to me ; we are not to reveal our secrets. 
But I will show you a face and character which exactly suit 
nim. {Feels for his pocket-book in both pockets, looks wild and 
concerned.] 

Geor. [Tauntingly.] Ay, " in his heart is no guile, m his lips 
no deceit, and in his hands no fraud ! Now we see a strong 
example of the power of physiognomy !" 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 221 

Fr. He is a wretch ! a traitor against every good sign ! I'll 
pursue him to the ends of the earth. {Offers to go.] 

Hen. Stop a moment. His fine, honest face is far enough 
before this time. You have not yet discovered the worst in- 
jury he has done you. 

Fr. What's that? I had no watch or money for him to 
steal. 

Hen. By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of any just 
conception of yourself ; he has betrayed you into a foolish be- 
lief that you are possessed of most extraordinary genius and 
talents. Whereas, separate from the idle whim about physi- 
ognomy, you have no more pretence to genius or learning 
than a common school-boy. Learn henceforth to estimate 
men's hands by their deeds, their lips by their words, and 
their hearts by their lives. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST LESSON. 

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. Cooper. 

Major Lincoln. 



i British Officers. 

Captain McJBuse, ) 

Seth Sage, a shrewd Yankee Prisoner. 
Job Pray, a Simpleton. 

Lincoln. What have we here % Of what offence has Mr. 
Sage been guilty, that he bears those bonds 1 

McFuse. Of the small crimes of tr'ason and homicide, if 
shooting at a man, with a hearty mind to kill him. can make 
a murder. 

Sage. It can't. A man must kill, with wicked intent, to 
commit murder. 

McFuse. Hear to the blackguard, datailing the law, as if 
he were my Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench ! And 
what was your own wicked intention, ye skulking vagabond, 
but to kill me % I'll have you tried and hung for the same 
act. 



222 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Sage. It's ag'in reason to believe that any jury will con- 
vict one man for the murder of another that ain't dead. 
There's no jury to be found in the Bay colony to do it. 

McFuse. Bay colony ! ye murdering thief and rebel ! I'll 
have ye transported to England ; ye shall be both transported 
and hung. I'll carry ye back to Ireland with me, and I'll 
hang ye up in the green island itself, and bury ye, in the 
heart of winter, in a bog ! 

Lincoln. But what is the offence that calls forth these 
severe threats 1 

McFuse. The scoundrel has been out. 

Lincoln. Out ! 

McFuse. Ay, out, and be hanged to him, sir ! Has not 
the whole country been like so many bees in search of a 
hive? Is your memory so short, that ye forget, already, 
Major Lincoln, the tramp the blackguards have given you 
over hill and dale, through thick and thin ? 

Lincoln. And was Mr. Sage, then, found among our ene- 
mies to-day % 

McFuse. Didn't I see him pull trigger on my own stature 
three times within as many minutes ? and didn't he break 
the handle of my sword ? and have not I a bit of lead he 
calls a buck-shot in my shoulder, as a present from the thief % 

Job. It's ag'in all law to call a man a thief, unless you can 
prove it upon him. 

McFuse. Do you hear the rascals? They know every 
angle of the law as well, or better than I do myself, who am 
the son of a Cork counsellor. I dare to say you were among 
them too, and that ye deserve the gallows as well as your 
commendable companion, there. 

Lincoln. How is this ? Did you not only mingle in this 
rebellion, Mr. Sage, )>ut also attempt the life of a gentleman 
who may be said, almost t to be an inmate of your own house 1 

Sage. I conclude it's best not to talk too much, seeing 
that no one can foretell what may happen. 



DIALOGUES. 223 

McFuse. Hear to the cunning reprobate ! He has not 
the grace to acknowledge his own sins, like an honest man. 
But I can save him that small trouble. I brought him in, 
as you see, intending to hang him the first favorable oppor- 
tunity. 

Lincoln. If this be true, we must give him into the hands 
of the proper authorities ; for it remains to be seen yet what 
course will be adopted with the prisoners in this singular 
contest. 

McFuse. I should think nothing of the matter, if the 
reprobate had not tr'ated me like a beast of the field with 
his buckshot ; and taking his aim each time, as though I had 
been a mad dog. Ye villain ! do you call yourself a man, 
and aim at a fellow-creature as you would at a brute % 

Sage. Why, when a man has pretty much made up his 
mind to fight, I conclude it's best to take aim, in order to 
save ammunition and time. 

Lincoln. You acknowledge the charge, then ? 

Sage. As the major is a moderate man, and will hear to 
reason, I will talk the matter over with him rationally. You 
see I had a small call to Concurd, early this morning 

Lincoln. Concord ! 

Sage. Yes, Concurd ; it lies here-away, say twenty or 
one-and-twenty miles 

McFuse. Hang your Concords and your miles too ! Is 
there a man in the army who can forget the desateful place 1 
Go on with your defence, without talking to us of the dis- 
tance, who have measured the road by inches. 

Sage. The captain is hasty and rash ! — But. being there, 
I went out of town with some company that I happened in 
with ; and, after a time, we concluded to return. And so, 
as we came to a bridge, about a mile beyond the place, we 
received considerable rough treatment from some of the 
king's troops, who were standing there 

Lincoln. What did they 1 



224 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Sage. They fired at us, and killed two of our company 
besides other threatening doings. There were some among 
us that took the matter up in considerable airnest ; and there 
was a sharp toss about it for a few minutes — though finally 
the law prevailed. 

Lincoln. The law ! 

Sage. Sartin — tis ag'in all law, I believe the major will 
own, to shoot peaceable men on the public highway. 

Lincoln. Proceed with your tale in your own way. 

Sage. That is pretty much the whole of it. The people 
rather took that, and some other things that happened, at 
Lexington, to heart ; — and — I suppose the major knows the 
rest. 

McFuse. But what has all this to do with your attempt 
to murder me, you hypocrite ? Confess the whole, ye thief, 
that I may hang you with an aisy conscience ! 

Lincoln. Enough ; the man has acknowledged sufficient 
already to justify us in transferring him to the custody of 
others. Let him be taken to the main guard, and delivered 
as a prisoner of this day. 

Sage. I hope the major will look to my things. I shall 
hold him accountable for all. 

Lincoln. Your property shall be protected, and I hope 
your life may not be in jeopardy. 

Job. The king can't hang Seth Sage for firing back, when 
the reg'lars fired first. 

McFuse. Perhaps you were out, too, Master Solomon — 
amusing yourself at Concord, with a small party of select 
friends % 

Job. Job didn't go any further than Lexington ; and he 
hasn't got any friend, except old Nab. 

McFuse. * # * Satan has possessed the minds of the peo- 
ple ! Lawyers and doctors — praists and sinners — old and 
young — girls and women — big and little — beset us in our 
march ; and here is a fool to be added to the number ! I 



DIALOGUES. 



225 



dare say that fellow, now, has attempted to murder in his 
day, too. 

Job. Job scorns such wickedness. He only shot one 
granny, and hit an officer in the arm. 

McFuse. D'ye hear that, Major Lincoln ? D'ye hear that 
shell of a man — that effigy — boasting of having killed a 
grenadier ? 

Lincoln. Hold ! — Remember we are soldiers, and that the 
boy is not a responsible being. No tribunal would ever sen- 
tence such an unfortunate creature to the gibbet ; and, in 
general, he is as harmless as a babe 

McFuse. ***** Hang such babes ! A pretty fellow 
is he to kill a man of six feet! and with a ducking gun, I'll 
engage. — I'll not hang the rascal, Major Lincoln, since it is 
your particular wish I'll only have him buried alive. 

Lincoln. Foolish boy ! did I not warn you that wicked 
men might endanger your life ? How was it that I saw you 
in arms to-day, against the troops ? 

Job. How came the troops in arms ag'in Job? They 
needn't think to wheel about the Bay province, clashing their 
godless drums and trumpets, burning housen, and shooting 
people, and find no stir about it ! 

Lincoln. Do you know that your life has been twice for- 
feited within twelve hours, by your own confession ? — once for 
murder, and again for treason against your king? You 
have acknowledged killing a man. 

Job. Yes — Job shot the granny ; but he didn't let the 
people kill Major Lincoln. 

Lincoln. True, true ; I owe my life to you ; — and that 
debt shall be cancelled at every hazard. 



226 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND LESSON. 

PEDANTS SEEKING PATRONAGE. — Anon. 

Digit, a Mathematician. 
Trill, a Musician. 

Sesquipedalia, a Linguist and Philosopher. 
Drone, a servant of Mr. Morrell, in whose house the scene 
is laid. 

Digit — alone. 

Digit. If theologians are in want of a proof that mankind 
are daily degenerating, let them apply to me, Archimedes Digit. 
I can furnish them with one as clear as any demonstration in 
Euclid's third or fifth book; and it is this — the sublime and 
exalted science of mathematics is falling into general disuse. 
Oh, that the patriotic inhabitants of this extensive country, 
should suffer so degrading a circumstance to exist ! Why, yes- 
terday, I asked a lad of fifteen, which he preferred, algebra or 
geometry ; and he told me — oh horrible ! he told me he had 
never studied them ! I was thunderstruck, I was astonished, I 
was petrified ! Never studied geometry ! never studied algebra ! 
and fifteen years old ! The dark ages are returning. Heathen- 
ish obscurity will soon overwhelm the world, unless I do some- 
thing immediately to enlighten it ; and for this purpose I have 
now applied to Mr. Morrell, who lives here, and is celebrated for 
his patronage of learning and learned men. 

(A knock at the door.) Who waits there ? 

Enter Drone. 
Is Mr. Morrell at home ? 

Drone, (speaking very slow.) Can't say ; s'pose lie is ; indeed, 
I am sure he is, or was, just now. 

Digit. Why, I could solve an equation, while you are answer- 



DIALOGUES. 



227 



ing a question of five words — I mean, if the unknown terms 
were all on one side of the equation. Can I see him ? 

Drone. There is nobody in the house by the name of Qua- 
tion. 

Digit, (aside.) Now, here's a fellow that cannot distinguish 
between an algebraic term and the denomination of his master ; 
I wish to see Mr. Morrell upon an affair of infinite importance. 

Drone. Oh, very likely, sir. I will inform him that Mr. 
Quation wishes to see him, (mimicking) upon an affair of infi- 
nite importance. 

Digit. No, no. Digit — Digit. My name is Digit. 

Drone. Oh, Mr. Digy. Very likely. (Exit Drone) 

Digit, (alone) That fellow is certainly a negative quantity. 
He is minus common sense. If this Mr. Morrell is the man I 
take him to be, he cannot but patronize my talents. Should he 
not, I don't know how I shall obtain a new coat. I have worn 
this ever since I began to write my theory of sines and contan- 
gents ; and my elbows have so often formed right angles with 
the plane surface of my table, that a new coat or a parallel patch 
is very necessary. But here comes Mr. Morrell. 

Enter Sesquipedalia. 

Sir, (bowing low) I am your most mathematical servant. I 
am sorry, sir, to give you this trouble ; but an affair of conse- 
quence — (pulling the rags over his elbows)-— an affair of conse- 
quence, as your servant informed you — 

Sesquipedalia. Servus non est mihi Domine ; that is, I have 
no servant, sir. I presume you have erred in your calculation ; 
and — 

Digit. No, sir. The calculations I am about to present you 
are founded on the most correct theorems of Euclid. You may 
examine them, if you please. They are contained in this small 
manuscript. (Producing a folio) « 

Sesq. Sir, you have bestowed a degree of interruption upon 
my observations. I was about, or according to the Latins futu- 
rus sum, to give you a little information concerning the luminary 



228 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Who appears to have deceived your vision. My name, sir, is 
Tullius Maro Titus Crispus Sesquipedalia ; by profession a lin- 
guist and philosopher. The most abstruse points in physics or 
metaphysics are to me transparent as ether. I have come to 
this house for the purpose of obtaining the patronage of aNgentle- 
man who befriends all the literati. Now, sir, perhaps I have 
induced conviction, in mente tua, that is, in your mind, that 
your calculation was erroneous. 

Digit. Yes, sir, as to your person, I was mistaken ; but my 
calculations, I maintain, are correct, to the tenth part of a circu- 
lating decimal. 

Sesq. But what is the subject of your manuscript ? Have 
you discussed the infinite divisibility of matter ? 

Digit. No sir ; I cannot reckon infinity ; and I have nothing 
to do with subjects that cannot be reckoned. 

Sesq. Why, I can reckon about it. I reckon it is divisible 
ad infinitum. But perhaps your work is upon the materiality 
of light ; and if so, which side of the question do you espouse ? 

Digit. Oh, sir, I think it quite immaterial. 

Sesq. What ! light immaterial ! Do you say light is imma- 
terial ? 

Digit. No ; I say it is quite immaterial which side of the 
question I espouse. I have nothing to do with it. And besides, 
I am a bachelor, and do not mean to espouse anything at present. 

Sesq. Do you write upon the attraction of cohesion ? You 
know, matter has the properties of attraction and repulsion. 

Digit. I care nothing about matter, so I can find enough for 
mathematical demonstration. 

Sesq. I cannot conceive what you have written upon, then. 
Oh, it must be the centripetal and centrifugal motions. 

Digit (pevishly). No, no ! I wish Mr. Morrell would come. 
Sir, I have no motions but such as I can make with my pencil 
upon my slate, thus. [Figuring upon his hand.) Six, minus 
four, plus two, equal eight, minus six, plus two. There, those 
are my motions. 

Sesq. Oh, I perceive you grovel in the depths of arithmetic. 



DIALOGUES. 229 

I suppose you never soared into the regions of philosophy. You 
never thought of the vacuum which has so long filled the heads 
of philosophers. 

Digit. Vacuum ! [Putting his hand to his forehead?) Let 
me think. 

Sesq. Ha ! What ! have you got it sub manu, that is, under 
your hand ? Ha, ha, ha ! 

Digit. Eh ! under my hand ? What do you mean, sir ? — 
that my head is a vacuum ? Would you insult me, sir ? — in- 
sult Archimedes Digit ? Why, sir, I'll cipher you into infinite 
divisibility. I'll set you on an inverted cone, and give you a 
centripetal and centrifugal motion out of the window, sir ! I'll 
scatter your solid contents ! 

Sesq. Da veniam, that is, pardon me, it was merely a lapsus 
lingua, that is, — 

Digit. Well, sir, I am not fond of lapsus Unguals, at all, sir. 
However, if you did not mean to offend, I accept your apology. 
I wish Mr. Morrell would come. 

Sesq. But, sir, is your work upon mathematics ? 

Digit. Yes sir. In this manuscript I have endeavoured to 
elucidate the squaring of the circle. 

Sesq. But, sir, a square circle is a contradiction in terms. 
You cannot make one. 

Digit. I perceive you are a novice in this sublime science. 
The object is to find a square which shall be equal to a given 
circle ; which I have done by a rule drawn from the radii of the 
circle and the diagonal of the square. And by my rule the 
area of the square will equal the area of the circle. 

Sesq. Your terms are to me incomprehensible. Diagonal is 
derived from the Greek. Dia and goneo, that is, " through the 
corner." But I don't see what it has to do with a circle ; for if 
I understand aright, a circle, like a sphere, has no corners. 

Digit. You appear to be very ignorant of the science of num- 
bers. Your life must have been very insipidly spent in poring 
over philosophy and the dead languages. You never tasted, as 
I have, the pleasure arising from the investigation of a difficult 



230 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

problem, or the discovery of a new rule in quadratic equations. 

Sesq. Poh ! poh ! (Turns round in disgust and hits Digit 
with his cane.) 

Digit. Oh, you villian ! 

Sesq. I wish, sir — 

Digit. And so do I wish, sir, that that cane was raised to the 
fourth power, and laid over your head as many times as there 
are units in a thousand. Oh ! Oh ! 

Sesq. Did my cane come in contact with the sphere of at- 
traction around your shin ? I must confess, sir — 

Enter Trill. 

But here is Mr. Morrell, Salve Dominef Sir, your ser- 
vant. 

Trill. Which of you, gentlemen, is Mr. Morrell ? 

Sesq. Oh ! neither, sir. I took you for that gentleman. 

Trill. No sir ; I am a teacher of music. Flute, harp, viol, 
violin, violincello, organ, or anything of the kind ; any instru- 
ment you can mention. I have just been displaying my powers 
at a concert, and come recommended to the patronage of Mr. 
Morrell. 

Sesq. For the same purpose are that gentleman and myself 
here. 

Digit (still rubbing his shin). Oh ! Oh ! 

Trill. Has the gentleman the gout ? I have heard of its 
being cured by music. Shall I sing you a tune ? Hem ! hem ! 
Faw — 

Digit. No, no ; I want none of your tunes. I'd make that 
philosopher sing, though, and dance, too, if he had n't made a 
vulgar fraction of my leg. 

Sesq. In veritate, that is, in truth, it happened forte, that is, 
by chance. 

Trill (talking to himself). If B be flat, me is in E. 

Digit. Ay, sir ; this is only an integral part of your conduct 
ever since you came into this house. You have continued to 
multiply your insults in the abstract ratio of a geometrical pro- 



DIALOGUES. 23 1 

gression, and at last have proceeded to violence. The dignity 
of Archimedes Digit never experienced such a reduction de- 
scending before. 

Trill (to himself). Twice fa sol la, and then comes me 
again. 

Digit. If Mr. Morrell does no admit me soon, I'll leave the 
house, while my head is on my shoulders. 

Trill. Gentlemen, you neither keep time nor chord. But if 
you can sing, we will carry a trio before we go. 

Sesq. Can you sing an ode of Horace or Anacreon ? I should 
like to hear one of them. • 

Digit. I had rather hear you sing a demonstration of the 
forty-seventh proposition, first book. 

Trill. I never heard of those performers, sir ; where did they 
belong ? 

Sesq. They did belong to Italy and Greece. 

Trill. Ah ? Italy ! There are our best masters, such as 
Morelli, and Furselli. Can you favor me with some of their 
compositions ? 

Sesq. Oh, yes ; if you have taste that way, I can furnish 
you with them, and with Virgil, Sallust, Cicero, Caesar, and 
Quintitian; and I have an old Greek Lexicon which I can 
spare. 

Trill. Ad libitum, my dear sir, they will make a handsome 
addition to my musical library. 

Digit. But, sir, what pretensions have you to the patronage 
of Mr. Morrell ? I don't believe you can square the circle. 

Trill. Pretensions, sir ! I have gained a victory over the 
great Tantanarrarra, the new opera singer, who pretended to 
vie with me. 'Twas in the symphony of Handel's Oratorio of 
Saul, where you know everything depends upon the tempo 
giusto, and where the primo should preceed in smorgando, and 
the secondo agitati. But he was on the third ledger line, I was 
an octave below, when, with a sudden appogiatura, I rose to D 
in alt, and conquered him. 



232 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Enter Drone. 

Drone. My master says how he will wait on you, gentlemen 

Digit. What is your name, sir ? 

Drone. Drone, at your service. 

Digit. No, no ; you need not drone at my service. A very 
applicable name, however. 

Sesq. Drone ? That is derived from the Greek Draon, that 
is, flying or moving swiftly. 

Trill. He seems to move in andante measure, that is, to the 
tune of Old Hundred. 

Drone. Very likely, gentlemen. 

Digit. Well, as I came first, I will enter first. 

Sesq. Right. You shall be the antecedent, I the subsequent, 
and Mr. Trill the consequent. 

Trill. Right. I was always a man of consequence. Fa, sol, 
la, Fa, sol, &c. [Exeunt] 



ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THIRD LESSON. 
SPIRIT RAPPINGS. 

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TOM AND HARRY 

Harry. Well, Tom, what's the news ? 

Tom. I should hardly think, Harry, you would ask that ques- 
tion, when one all-absorbing subject is now agitating the com- 
munity. 

Har. Well, that's what I call snubbing a fellow pretty short 
off, Tom. But not having been here very long, I really am 
ignorant of precisely what you mean by " the all-absorbing sub- 
ject." The Presidential Election did stir up the Whigs and 
Democrats not long ago ; but in the whirl of matters since, 
that's got to be stale now, quite. 

Tom. I see you are all engrossed with this world's affairs, 
my friend. But have you heard nothing of late about the in 






DIALOGUES. 233 

sight we are getting into the world of spirits, and our ability to 
converse with them ? 

Har. 0, the rappings, the rappings ! Yes, I have heard and 
read a good deal about them ; but I haven't had my senses so 
far rapped or knocked out of me yet, as to believe all that is 
anything more than one of the thousand things that have been 
put afloat to scare and delude people ever since the days of Salem 
witchcraft. 

Tom. Pray don't mention spiritual communications on the 
same day with Salem witchcraft, or any other delusion. You 
might as well put the Bible and the story of Bluebeard to- 
gether. 

Har. Now, Tom, are you serious ? 

Tom. Never more so in my life, I assure you. 

Har. Well, I'm sorry you have gone off on that tangent. I 
shall soon expect to hear that you have been sent to a mad- 
house. 

Tom. That's the way all unbelievers talk. 

Har. Friend Tom, have your spirits ever taught you to spell 
their performances with six letters % 

Tom. No, Harry. They have more important things to do. 

Har. Well, then I will teach you — h-u-m-b-u-g, and of all 
bugs, deliver me from hum-bugs. 

Tom. Spirits of the departed around us ! pity the blindness 
of my poor, deluded friend. Harry, if you had only seen what 
I have seen, you would no more doubt the reality of my doc- 
trines than you would doubt your own existence. When you 
have seen, you will believe. 

Har. Perhaps I shall ; but not before. Friend Tom, do you 
believe the Bible ? 

Tom. Certainly, Harry ; why do you ask that question ? 

Har. Because I can't help thinking why that good old book 
isn't enough for us without any other revelation. That does not 
lead us to expect any more light concerning the spirit-world. 
But, if I am not mistaken, it does tell us about " lying spirits" 
that are to come on earth about these days, and bids us beware 



234 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

of them too ; and so I mean to do — at least, of such ridiculous 
operators as poured out their nonsense through our tables. 

Tom. Harry, this is too serious business to laugh about. Who 
is to direct how our knowledge of the next world shall be com- 
municated ? For my part, I am glad to get it in any way, and, 
begging your pardon, should never think of consulting you for 
direction on that subject. 

Har. I should have none to give you if you did. But I 
think we can both do better on that point than to pretend to 
summon up those that have done with earth, and bring them to 
thump out the alphabet for our edification, through our fur- 
niture. 

Tom. They rap and rock out information, because, as they are 
spirits, and we are yet in the flesh, we cannot comprehend 
spiritual language. 

Har. Well, Tom, some of them have not gained much know- 
ledge since they left the body ; for they spell miserably now, 
while before they left this world, they were very accurate in that 
particular. 

Tom. Oh, fol de rol, Harry ! that's a small matter ; the sense 
is what we want, no matter how it is clothed. 

Har. That does not satisfy me, Tom. If you really sum- 
moned the spirit of old Dr. Franklin to talk with you, I believe 
he would spell his words as accurately as he used to do while 
in the body. 

Tom. But you won't believe that we can bring him to com- 
municate with us. 

Har. Believe ? — no. If you could, he was too much of a 
Yankee to content himself with your tedious, numbscull method 
of talking. He would call for his old Ramage press and types 
again. Why don't some enterprising spirit of a dead Yankee 
invent a better way ? 

Tom. Come, come, Harry ; you shock me by talking so. 
You know the spirits do sometimes write down their ideas, to 
show us that they are not confined to any one method. 

Har. Ah ! and have you ever received any of their written 



DIALOGUES. 235 

messages, yourself, Tom ? I've heard of them, but never had 
the good fortune to see any. 

Tom. Yes, Harry, it was my blessed privilege, last evening, 
to be one of a circle of friends who received a communication 
direct from a spirit hand ! 

Har. O Tom ! show it me ! I should stand a better chance 
of being convinced, if I could only get hold of something tangible. 

Tom. Well, my friend, suspend your levity, and listen to 
words such as spirits' voices utter, and then tell me candidly if 
they are not super-mortal. \Takes paper from his pocket and 
reads'] — " In the 12th hour, the ineffable glory of the Uncreated, 
Holy -Procedure, shall crown the Tribune Creator with the per- 
fect disclosive illumination ! Then shall the creation, in efful- 
gence above the divine seramphimse, arise into the dome of the 
disclosure, in one grand, comprehensive, revolving galaxy of su- 
preme created beatitudes !" There, Harry, now tell me if that 
glorious language is not utterly above all the folderol of earthly 
pulpits, senates and universities ! 

Har. Whew ! tremendous ! I am knocked into the middle 
of next week ! Fm confounded ! I know not what to say ! 
Stop though — " 'twill never do to give it up so, Mr. Brown." 
Let me try now, Tom, and do you listen. [ Throws himself into 
an attitude and recites] — " Then shall blockheads, in the jack- 
asical dome of the disclosive procedure above the all-fired, great 
leather fungus of Peter Nip-niny-go, the gooseberry grinder, 
rise into the dome disclosive, until co-equal, co-extensive, and 
conglomerated lumuxes, in one grand, comprehensive mux, shall 
assimilate into nothing, and revolve like a bobtailed pussy-cat, 
after the space where the tail was !" There, Tom, do you give 
it up now, or do you want more ? I have " a few more of the 
same sort." 

Tom. Harry, you shock me inexpressibly. How dare you 
make such a mock of sacred things? Let me tell you as a 
friend, that I am seriously afraid you will meet the fate of other 
blasphemers of old, who suffered the vengeance of heaven for 
their impiety. 



236 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Har. Never you fear, Tom ; — according to your own doctrine 
I am safe ; for I have never yet heard of any rascal so infamous, 
that you do not put him into good company in the spirit world, 
and send him on his way rejoicing toward the " Seventh Sphere," 
where all is perfect happiness. 

Tom. I wish you good-bye, Harry. It's of no use to talk 
with you — blind you are, and blind you will remain, in spite of 
me, to your own best interests. [ Turns to go out.] 

Har. Good-bye to you, friend Ghost-talker. When I con- 
clude to burn up my Bible, I will come and hear you preach. 
Please tell your spirits not to rock on my corns, nor knock 
out my teeth before I get. ready to shed them. [Tom goes 
out in disgust.] I wish though they would play the violin 
occasionally, and set the girls a chassezing ! [Exit Harry.] 



ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
THE LITTLE REBELS. 

Gen. Howe. 

His Aid. 

Sentinel. 

George. 

James. 

Boys. 

Scene I — Boston Common — A crowd of boys assembled near 
the Skating Pond. 

George. Here it is again, boys. The ice is all broken in by 
the red-coats. We shall have no fun to-day. 

James. I wish we were not boys? If I were big enough to 
carry a sword or a musket, I would drive 'em out of the 
land faster that neighbor Tuft's dog ever went out of father's 
store. 



DIALOGUES. 237 

George. And what if we are boys ? I, for one, have no mind 
to bear this treatment any longer. 

All. Right, George, right! 

James. But what can we do, boys % 

George. I'll tell you. Form a line of march, and with drum, 
and fife, and colors, wait upon General Howe, at his tent, and 
tell him we will not be insulted by British soldiers, nor any 
other soldiers. 

All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! [Exeunt.~\ (A short pause, and 
then again ringing without.) Hurra! hurra! hurra! 

Scene II. — General Howe's Head Quarters. — A sentinel 
pacing before the door with musket over his shoulder. — Noise 
of fife and drum at a distance. 

Sentinel. What in the name of wonder can that be ? Are 
they up in arms again in this rascally town ? A troop of a 
hundred boys, as I live. An Indian painted on their flag, and 
no sign of the English cross. Oh ! the land is full of rebellion. 
It is .full of it, and running over. [The boys halt in front of 
the tent, and George approaches the Sentinel with the standard 
in his hand.] 

George. Is General Howe at home ? 

Sentinel. Who are you? 

George. We are Boston boys, sir. 

Sentinel. And what do you want here ? 

George. We come for our rights ; and we wish to speak to 
the British General. 

Sentinel. The British General has better business than list- 
ening to a parcel of ragamuffin little rebels ; I shall do none of 
your messages. 

George. As you please, sir; but here we wait till we see 
General Howe. We will see him ; and he shall do us justice. 

All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 

Sentinel. That, you little rascals, would be to hang you and 
vour cowardly countrymen. I suppose you are making all this 



238 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



fuss about the little dirty pond on the common, that don't at the 
best hold water enough to fill a sizable Dutch milk pan. 

All. Cowards, do you call us ! Say it again if you dare. 
[General Howe and one of his Aids step out.'] 

General. What is the matter here ? Why is this disturbance ? 

George. General Howe, we come to complain of the insults 
and the outrages of your soldiers. They break our kite strings, 
ruin our skating pond, and steal our drums from us. We have 
spoken more than once, to no purpose ; and now we have come 
to say that we can not, and we will not, endure it any longer. 

General. [Aside to his Aid] Good Heavens ! liberty is in the 
very air, and the boys breathe it. [To the boys.] Go, my brave 
lads ; you have the word of General Howe that your sports 
shall never be disturbed again, without punishment to the of- 
fender. Does that satisfy you ? 

George. Yes, General Howe ; and in the name of my country 
I present you thanks. 

General. No thanks ; you are brave boys, you are English 
boys ; I see plainly, you are English boys. 

All. No, sir, Yankees — Yankees — Yankee boys, sir. Hurra ! 
hurra ! [ The drum strikes up, and the little band march off 
with flying colors.] 



ONE HUNDRED AND EORTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. 

Charles. Frank, tell me a good story, as you have often 
done before. 

Frank. Well, what shall it be ? 

C. A bloody murder. 

F. A bloody murder ! Well, then, once upon a time, some 
men, dressed all alike 



C. With black crapes over their faces. 



DIALOGUES. 239 

F. No ; they had steel caps on — having crossed a dark plain, 
wound cautiously around the skirts of a deep wood 

C. They were ill-looking fellows, I dare say. 

F. I cannot say so ; on the contrary, they were tall men — 
leaving on their right hand, an old ruined meeting-house on the 
hill. 

C. At midnight, just as the clock struck twelve, was it not ? 

F. No, really ; it was on a fine balmy summer's morning — 
and moved forwards, one behind another 

C. As still as death, creeping alone under the fences. 

F. On the contrary, they walked remarkably upright; and 
so far from endeavoring to be hushed and still, they made a 
loud noise as they came along, with several sorts of instru- 
ments. 

C. But Frank, they would be found out immediately. 

F. They did not seem to wish to conceal themselves ; on the 
contrary, they gloried in what they were about. They moved 
forwards, I say, to where stood a neat, pretty town, which they 
set on fire 

C. Set a town on fire ? Wicked wretches ! 

F. And while it was burning, they murdered — twenty thou- 
sand men. 

C. O fie ! You don't intend I shall believe all this. I 
thought all along you were making up a tale, as you often do ; 
but you shall not catch me this time. What ! they lay still, I 
suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats ? 

F. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could. 

C How should these men kill twenty thousand people, pray ? 

F. Why not ? the murderers were thirty thousand. 

C. O, now I have found you out ! You mean a battle. 

F. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murders half so 
bloody. 



CONTENTS 



Prkpacf 3 

Organs of Speech 5 

Formation of the Consonants 5 

Grammatical Pauses 12 

Rhetorical Pauses 12 

Inflections 13 

Emphasis 20 

The Keys or pitches of the Voice 20 

Vocal Gymastics 21 

The Bainbow 27 

Heroism of Deborah 29 

Heroism of Jephtha's Daughter. ... 30 

Gesture 32 

The Miser and Plutus 39 

Speech of James Otis 45 

The American Indians 47 

Lafayette 49 

English Taxes 51 

South Carolina 52 

Massachusetts 53 

Speech of Chatham 56 

Speech of Patrick Henry 59 

Supposed Speech of John Adams. . . 62 
Rolla's Address to the Peruvians. . . 68 

Washington 69 

Scotland 71 

The Queen of France 73 

National Glory a 74 

The Necessity of Union 75 

The Importance of Preserving our 

form of Government 77 

The Monument on Bunker Hill 78 

The Battle of Lexington 80 

The American Revolution 82 

Appeal in Behalf of Greece 83 

Ancient Oratory 86 

Plunket's Speech against the Union 

of Ireland and England 87 

Obstacles to the Extinction of War. . 88 

The Battle of Marathon 90 

Chatham's Reply to Walpole 91 

Catiline's Speech 98 

The Right to Tax America 94 

Brutus on the Death of Caesar 95 

Rienzi's Address to the Romans 96 

Henry V. to his Soldiers 97 

Grattan's Reply to Corry 98 

The Influence of the United States 

upon other Nations 100 

A Revolutionary Song 101 

Liberty 101 

On to the Strife 102 

The Battle Field 103 

The Pilgrims 104 

The Severance of South Carolina from 

the Union 105 

The Charge 107 

The Importance of a Firm National 

> Character 108 

Old Ironsides 109 

Leonidis 110 

To Arms Ill 

Make Way for Liberty 112 

The Efficiency of Woman 114 

Ye Sons of Sires 116 

Fourth of July ., 116 

The Survivors of the Revolution., ,.117 
Life without Freedom 118 



SEP 2 9 1950 




Ode for Independence 119 

Midnight Musings 120 

The Dying Archer '.123 

The American Flag r_>4 

The Angel of the Leaves 126 

Life : An Allegory ' 119 

The Cloud 131 

The Broken Heart 133 

The Pilgrim Fathers 136 

A Sketch 147 

The Disembodied Spirit 138 

Colonel Haynes 140 

Spirit of Freedom 142 

Lakes and the Ocean 144 

Marco Bozzaris 145 

Sublimity of Mountain Scenery. . ..146 

My Mother's Grave 147 

I would not Live Alway 148 

Knowledge 150 

Moonlight and a Battle Field 150 

Absalom 152 

The New Roof 156 

Washington and Franklin 158 

Love and Murder 160 

A Crusader's Song 161 

American Freedom 162 

Lvceum Speech of Mr Orator, Climax. 1S4 
William Tell in the Field of Grutli. .165 

Our Country 166 

Rhine Song of the Roman Soldiers.. 267 

The Mechanics' Soug 168 

Peter Parley's 4th of July Oration.. 170 

America 172 

Speech Obituary 171 

Jack Halyard's Speech 172 

The Spanish Patriots' Song 173 

Man's Enterprize 174 

Union — Washington 176 

Pyramus and Thisbe 177 

Adams and Jefferson 181 

Lament for Greec ; 183 

Address to the Patriots of the Rexo- 

lution 184 

Love of Country 185 

Washington's Birth-day 186 

Bingen on the Rhine 188 

Self-made Men 190 

Press On 191 

The Wind in a Frolic 192 

The Mysterious Music of Ocean 193 

The Murderer 195 

The Spanish Champion 197 

Ship of State 199 

The World for Sale 200 

Occasional Prologue 202 

Occasional Epilogue 204 

Excelsior 105 

Dialogues— Old Fickle and his Son ..204 

" Why an Apple Falls 210 

" Chas. II. and William Penn 214 
" Captain Hardy and Nathan 216 

" Physiognomy 219 

(! The Battle of Lexington. ..221 
" Pedants seeking Patronage 226 

" Spirit Rappings 232 

" The Little Rebels 236 

" Things by their right 

names 238 












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